Send In The Clowns
by Phoenix on cloud nine
Summary: A gunnery sergeant and his wife are killed by what their daughter describes as a clown, so NCIS investigate. However, it's not the first murder by a clown, and so the Winchesters investigate as well. However, they're arrested as supsects.
1. Chapter 1

**Okee, so; anyone reading this who're still waiting for my NCIS stories; I PROMISE I will get round to them, but I kinda found a new fandom (Hence the crossover) and the muse just wasn't there, y'know? Plus I had loads of college work D:  
****And all the line breakers in my stories disappeared, which I was NOT happy about :(  
****Also, this takes place midway through season 2 for Supernatural, and Season 3 for NCIS :)**

Send in the clowns

"Dude, I swear, this is what – the fifth carnival we've been to?"

Dean grinned at his brother, "Aha, what's the matter, Sammy? All those clowns staring at you?"

Sam glared over at Dean, "I just don't think that what we're looking for is another Rakshasa. We definitely killed that last one, and they're pretty rare. And they don't have to take the form of a clown."

"What's your point, man?"

"I dunno, maybe it's the spirit of a clown, or an actual guy dressed as one trying to freak people out."

Dean stared at him incredulously, "Since when has it ever been a Scooby-doo scenario?"

There was silence for a moment, before Sam folded, "Point taken. But still, what are we going to do? I mean, the Watsons died in, well… it wasn't humorous, but…"

"Wasn't humorous?" Dean repeated. "Come on, it was hilarious! Who would want to die by drowning in popcorn? Or have their throat cut by their rotating bow tie?"

Sam shrugged, "It seems like the kind of thing that would happen to you."

"I don't know, I've heard about people dying 'mid-coitus', that would…"

"Anyway," Sam cut in quickly. "The daughter said she saw the clown do it. Now the police are claiming she's either in shock, had a nightmare or the guy was dressed as a clown…"

"But other deaths like this have been happening throughout the area." Dean finished. He sighed and leant against the side of a hot-dog stand.

"I think we should go back to the motel," Sam said, shifting closer to Dean when a clown holding some balloons walked past, "and get a new perspective on things in the morning."

Dean snickered, "Are you sure you don't want to stay here a while longer?"

Sam shuddered, "No thanks, this place is reminding me of 'It'."

"Ha! I knew it!" Dean crowed victoriously on the way back to the Impala. "It was because I let you watch that film that you don't like clowns, right? Dude, you tried to climb in my bed every night for about two weeks."

"I was 8!" Sam defended. "I was still freaked out that monsters and ghosts were real!"

"Yeah, whatever, Princess." Dean chuckled, opening the car door.

"You're a jerk." Sam huffed, climbing in.

"And you're a bitch." Dean replied good-naturedly.

**SPN/NCIS**

"Gear up." Gibbs announced to the bull-pen in the early hours of the morning.

"What happened, Boss?" Tony asked, grabbing his bag and trying to beat McGee to the elevator.

"Gunnery Sergeant Mike Ellis and his wife Katherine were both killed in their home last night," Gibbs informed them, sipping his coffee. "Their ten year old daughter lived, and is being interviewed by the FBI."

"The FBI?" Ziva repeated. "Why would they be interviewing her?"

"There's been a series of murders with the same MO around that area," Gibbs explained. "The kids always survive, and the victims die in unusual ways."

"Unusual?" McGee questioned.

By this point they'd stepped out of the elevator and were getting in the car. Tony quickly grabbed shotgun, leaving McGee and Ziva to sit in the back while Gibbs turned the engine on.

"Yeah, McGee, unusual," Gibbs replied. "I got Ducky to look up some of the other killings before he meets us at the scene."

"And?" Tony questioned, trying to keep his breakfast down as Gibbs did 70 in a 40mph zone.

"And if you make any movie references when I tell you, I'm going to do 4G turns in this next junction." Gibbs threatened.

"Aw, Boss, that hurt." Tony replied, but said nothing more, waiting for Gibbs to tell them about the deaths.

"Some died by… suffocating in cream pies in their faces, drowning in popcorn, throats cut from metal bow ties on their necks. And here's the kicker," he paused as he spun round a corner, "the kids identify a clown as the attacker."

"Huh," Tony spoke up. "A killer clown, killing people in clown-like ways… kinda like my man Jack in 'Batman'. Or in 'It'…" He quickly stopped grinning as Gibbs' face became tighter and he pulled the steering wheel harder, the car barely remaining under control.

Tony could just hear McGee muttering 'I hate you, DiNozzo' as they sped onto the highway.

**NCIS/SPN**

Sam turned over in his sleep slightly as Dean stumbled into the motel room. He'd gone from the bar to a girl's house, then back to the bar before finally coming back in. He wasn't drunk; they were on a job, but he was… enjoyably numb.

He was about to say something, before he realised his brother was asleep. Shaking his head slightly, he whispered, "You should've stayed, Sam; you need more fun in your life. Make friends with a clown or something…" he chuckled at his own wit, and turned his attention to the TV.

Sam must have left it on before hitting the sack, he decided, and was about to turn it off when he saw a news update. He slowly lowered himself and sat on the end of Sam's bed to watch it.

"This news just in," the reporter said, a grim expression on his face, "we've just been informed of another murder by an as yet unknown killer, described by the children of the victims to be a man dressed in a clown suit. The victims of this newest attack are said to be Michael Ellis and his wife Katherine, however, their daughter Samantha remains uninjured, although she is being held for questioning."

"Shit." Dean murmured, glancing at the time in the corner of the TV screen. Five past six in the morning. Had he been out for that long? He shrugged; maybe he could get an hour or two of sleep, then wake Sam and go check the place out. They'd probably find nothing, like in the other houses, but it was better than just sitting on their asses and calling Bobby, hoping he'd have an answer.

Deciding on his action plan, he set the alarm for eight and settled down, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**SPN/NCIS**

Having been given their assorted jobs, Ziva, McGee and Tony set off around the house. The bodies had just been taken away to the navy yard while Ducky was outside trying to coax the little girl into saying something. She remained stoic, and didn't say anything when both Gibbs and Ducky questioned her.

The parents had both had pom-poms shoved down their mouths, and so there wasn't that much to take pictures of after initially taken the pictures of the bodies. Tony ventured upstairs however, thinking there may be something up there. He paused as he heard something being placed down on what sounded like a table after being picked up. After 4 years at NCIS, he knew what that sounded like, and quickly took his gun out, moving silently through the house to reach the room that was occupied.

* * *

Outside, Gibbs was talking to Ziva until he heard Ducky talking to someone who wasn't with them. Looking around he spotted a young man with the same cocky stance he saw in DiNozzo.

"So, Dr Mallard, was it?" He asked, grinning winningly.

"Yes, Ducky, to my associates."

"Alrighty then, Ducky; cause of death?"

"It seems that they had pom-poms forced into their mouths, which then stuck in their throats. A horrible way to go, but I remember…"

"Duck?" Both men looked around to see Gibbs stood there. He sized the other man up and asked coldly, "And you are?"

"My name's Agent Greg McGuiness, I'm with the FBI," He quickly flipped his badge up for Gibbs to look at. "We're just looking through the case, you know, routine…"

"Oh yeah?" Gibbs challenged. "Because I threw every FBI agent off the scene and got the case handed over to us."

"Oh," the man faltered. "Right… and who's 'us'?"

"NCIS. Special Agent Gibbs."

"Well, Agent Gibbs, with all due respect, if I could just get a quick look at the body, see how the case is…"

He was cut off by the sound of a struggle from inside the house. Both he and Gibbs turned to see Tony pulling a tall man out of the house, his head bleeding and in handcuffs.

"DiNozzo, what's…"

He was quickly drowned out by the FBI agent yelling angrily, "Hey, let him go, you bastard! He's with me!"

Tony stopped and looked over at Gibbs, before looking back, "Okay… who are you?"

"Agent Greg McGuiness, I'm…"

"Dean?" They all looked to see the tall guy wince a few times. "Why am I in handcuffs?"

"You just said your name was Greg." Tony said, uncertainly, glancing at Gibbs, who was glaring at both strangers.

"Yeah, it's my partner – that whack to the head you must have given has, y'know, messed with him or something."

"Okay, who are you and what are you doing on my crime scene?" Gibbs yelled, grabbing Dean by his arms and shoving him against a van.

"Easy up, man," Dean said. "Just, calm down and I'll tell you. And will you tell your agent over there to let go of my brother?"

"You said he was your partner."

"I lied," Dean said impatiently. "Look, we…"

"How about you just tell us why you were here back at NCIS."

Dean sighed but could see no way out of it, "Fine," he conceded, "but will you let my brother go?"

Gibbs nodded and Tony undid the hand cuffs, letting the tall man walk over to Dean, rubbing his head.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, in a tone that McGee thought was way too protective for siblings. He was close to his little sister, but he wouldn't talk to her like that.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "But he caught me off guard, I should've been able to floor him."

"You're out of practice," he grinned, unaware that the agents were listening. "You just need to battle with a demon and you'll be good as new."

"I'd prefer to take my chances with a werewolf or a vampire," Sammy replied. "They're easier."

Dean laughed, "Tell me that after you get beaten up by one."

Gibbs shook his head as they bundled the supposed brothers into a car with McGee driving. They were clearly insane. But before he sent them to the men in white coats, he needed to find out what they were doing in that house.

**So… like it? Want it continued? And I have a plan for this as well! I usually just wing it, but today I have a plan :D So, yeah; review? Xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi :) Thanks for all the reviews and stuff :D I'm determined not to fall behind with this story, **_**and**_** to pick up the rest of them; and with my summer holidays starting, I should be able to churn out a LOT more fics :)**

Send In The Clowns

Dean sat in the back of the car that was taking them to NCIS. Every so often he glanced over at Sam, who was trying to wipe the blood off his forehead with his sleeve.

"Dude, it's habits like this that never get you laid."

Sam scowled at him, "Dean, this is serious. Do they think we did this? What if they take our fingerprints? They'll see our records. Henrickson might get called; that FBI agent?"

"Sammy, relax. Have you never seen these kinds of shows on the TV? Rival feds hate each other."

Sam stared at his brother, "Are you insane? This is real life, Dean, not TV."

"Just chill out, alright? They've got no evidence we did anything, and as soon as we tell them our story, they'll let us go. And I'll be able to go pick up my baby."

Sam fixed Dean with a withering look, "It's parked about two blocks away from the scene. It'll take us ages to get it."

Dean waved his hand, "Small details. It'll be fine. Just; don't mention what we do for a living." He added condescendingly, and got another bitch face from the younger man for his trouble.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Sammy," he advised. "And just be glad they didn't put you in cuffs."

"It would probably just spark off more gay jokes." Sam mumbled, his head leant on the window as he tried to see where they were going.

"Dude, I don't get that. I mean; you can _tell _I'm more into blondes. And I'd go for someone shorter than me."

"I don't think you'd _find_ someone shorter than you."

"Keep talking, smart-ass, and see where it gets you."

"How about being held for questioning in a federal building?" Sam offered, groaning as the car pulled to a halt outside the navy yard. "Jeeze, that agent can hit hard. I think my eyes have probably rolled back into my skull." He squinted as the door was opened and he got out, looking at the building in trepidation.

"I'd give you some painkillers, but they'd probably think I was dealing," Dean joked, to hide his concern. "That and the fact I don't have any."

"Yeah, well; thinking ahead was never your strong suit." Sam reminded him, following the young agent into the building.

"What? You think I'd plan in case you were attacked by a fed on a crime scene we were investigating? To be honest, I was more embarrassed than worried about being arrested. After everything – you get jumped by a _person_?"

"Remember that time you were tied to a chair and watched by a 12 year old girl?"

"…Touché."

The original agent at the crime scene walked towards them, before cocking a hand and indicating that they should follow him.

It was after a slightly awkward silence in the elevator that Sam said, "So, uh… are we in trouble?"

Dean smirked. His brother was trying to get around this very grim faced agent using his talents for widening his eyes and sounding pathetic without sounding whiney.

"I don't know. Are you?" The agent asked, looking at him piercingly.

"You sound like one of our high school principals." Dean told him.

The agent glared at him and walked into a long corridor, "You," he said, pointing at Dean, "in there," with this he motioned over to an interrogation room with its door open. "And you," now pointing to Sam, "in there." He pointed to a different room, and waited until the brothers had gone into their separate rooms and closed the doors before he ground his teeth and rubbed a hand over his face.

He needed coffee.

**SPN/NCIS**

"So who are our brothers?" Gibbs asked, walking into the bullpen.

Tony at once leapt up out of his chair and clicked the remote in his hand, and the pictures of the brothers appeared on the plasma, "Dean and Samuel Winchester, originally from Lawrence, Kansas. Dean's four years older than Sam, and from what I can find, they just… road trip together."

"Road trip?" Gibbs repeated.

"Yeah, they don't have listed jobs, homes or next of kin. Just each other. Oh, and get this – the FBI are wanting a chat with them if we find them."

"What did they do?" McGee asked.

"Says here…" Tony paused as he looked at the file he had in his hands, "they're wanted for questioning involving grave desecration, breaking and entering and… murder. Apparently they were the main suspects in a bank job that took place last month. FBI Agent Victor Hendrickson _really _wants a word."

"That's a bit of a mixed charge, isn't it?" McGee said. "Murder and breaking and entering, fine. But… grave desecration? What would they do that for?"

"Maybe they're just psychos," Tony shrugged. "Maybe their father didn't love them enough… Oh, speaking of their father; I couldn't find much, but I searched through some old files in Kansas around the latest time I could find them living there. There was a fire at their home when they were just kids; their mom died in it after their dad managed to pull them out of it. Soon after that they must have left town, 'cause there's nothing in the local papers about them."

"Well why would there be?" Ziva asked. "They might not have done anything later on."

"It's a small town, Ziva," Tony informed her, "and they both look like they did sports. Local little league games or something would be huge news in the papers. Nope, it's like they vanished off the face of the earth. I can't find anything on their Dad. Name's John Winchester, and it said he worked in a garage in Lawrence. Don't know what he did after this fire."

Gibbs nodded. Losing you wife was awful – but at least the man didn't lose his children, "Ziva, Tony – swing by Lawrence and see if you can talk to anyone about Winchester. I'm going to talk to the older son."

"What about the younger one?" McGee asked.

"You're going to talk to him." Gibbs told him, already walking to interrogation.

"Me?" McGee looked quite nervous; although in all fairness he did think he was going to be put in a room with a madman.

"Relax, McScaredycat, he's 23 – just a kid. What could happen?" Tony smiled as he followed Ziva towards the elevator.

**

* * *

**

Gibbs walked into interrogation to see Dean singing to himself and drumming out a tune on the table, _Is this guy 27 or 7? _Gibbs thought.

"_I am the passenger… and I ride, and I ride… I ride through the city's…" _he stopped singing as he saw Gibbs walk in. "Hey, Agent…"

"Gibbs," he supplied him, "Special Agent Gibbs."

"Hey, Special Agent Gibbs," Dean mocked. "I'm Dean."

"I know," Gibbs replied, sitting down on the other side of the table to Dean. "What I don't know, however, is what you and your brother were doing at my crime scene."

"We're antiques dealers," Dean told him, his eyes glittering. "We just couldn't wait to see what trinkets and treasures would be inside that house. And my brother's a sucker for collector's dolls." He laughed as he pictured the face Sam would pull at that statement.

"You do realise how much of a mess you two are in, don't you?" Gibbs asked. "I've read your files. Suspected murder, breaking and entering; and now this murder as well…"

"We didn't kill anyone." Dean insisted.

"… I wonder how much time they'd give you," Gibbs went on as if he hadn't heard the younger man. "20, 30 years? Maybe life? Shame really, seeing as your brother's only 23. Barely an adult when you think about it."

Gibbs saw the small flash of emotion in Dean's eyes when he mentioned his brother, but it was quickly replaced with humour, "Nah, Sammy's like a 50 year old in a 23 year old's body. And he'd probably enjoy the rules and regulations they put on you in prison; I don't think he likes winging it that much."

"I wonder what started you both on this career path, hmm?" Gibbs questioned, trying to find a weak spot somewhere. "Maybe something happened when you were a teenager? Maybe it was earlier? Maybe it was the fire that started it all."

"You don't know anything." Dean said quietly.

"No?" Gibbs retorted. "I know that soon after a fire killed your mother, your father took you and your brother away from your home town, and you were never heard from again."

"We went on a little… road trip. It helps after something so traumatic." Dean told him, looking him in the eyes.

"How old were you when it happened?" He asked.

"Are you interrogating me or do you just want to write my biography?" Dean quipped, looking up at him.

"What were you doing at that house?"

Dean sighed, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Gibbs snarled.

"Okay. Me and my brother… we hunt things. Evil things. Things that kill for fun. And we try to save people."

"Try to?"

"…We don't always get there in time."

"So you're… a what? A bounty hunter?"

Dean shrugged, "You could say that. But we don't do it for money. We'd heard about this killer clown and knew we could help. That's why we were in the house. We can help you."

Dean had said this with such conviction that Gibbs was wondering if he was telling the truth. Or whether the young man _thought _he was telling the truth. Either way, he was slightly swayed. Until Abby found something, he couldn't really charge them with anything. Yet at the same time, he couldn't just let them go, or let them help with the investigation.

"Look," Dean said, leaning forward, "I know all those things on our records look bad. But the… people we go after; the _real_ menaces to society – they're often the ones that make us look bad. Now, I know me and Sam weren't exactly toeing the line when it came to that house. We shouldn't have broken in, or pretended to be agents. But we want to stop this from happening again. We can help; this isn't just your run of the mill killer. We know about these sorts of people. And we can even give you references," Dean smirked. "In my phone there'll be numbers of people we've helped. Just ask one of them; preferably Ellen or Bobby."

"Why them?"

"Because the others may not remember us; they're the ones we regularly keep in contact with. Now," He made a move as if to get up, looking at Gibbs expectantly, "can we go now? Or at least have a tour or something? Or how about that nice looking female agent you have? And was she Israeli? Mmm, I have to say…"

He got no further, as he got a smack on the upside of his head.

"Ow!" He moaned, rubbing his head. "What was that for?" Gibbs glared at him. "Okay, but can we at least go somewhere? It's really boring in here. And can I see my brother?"

"I'll see if he's finished being interrogated yet," Gibbs relented, and stood up, before cocking his hand. "Come on."

**NCIS/SPN**

Sam sprawled himself out on the table, playing idly with bits of his hair that came across his face. Maybe Dean was right, maybe he should go to the hairdressers... Although more and more he was thinking of growing his fringe back in, as opposed to the curtains that framed his face.

Just then, the door opened, and Sam looked over to see the agent that drove them here in the first place. The agent sat down opposite him, but all Sam could look at was the mirror on the other side of the room.

"Is there anyone in there?" He asked, nodding towards it. "I get nervous under pressure." He decided that he might as well instil a bit of Dean 'humour' into the conversation. It was probably the head injury talking.

"I'm Special Agent McGee," he said. "And there's someone recording what's happening, but there isn't another agent in there."

Sam nodded and replied, "What exactly are you going to try and charge us with? Because I was a law student at Stanford for 2 years, and I can pull up some impressive phrases."

"Stanford?" McGee repeated. "Wow. I went to MIT."

"Cool," Sam said, genuinely impressed. "So you know a lot about computers?"

"I would say so," McGee replied. "There's only one person who knows more about them than me, and that's Abby."

"Who's Abby?" Sam asked, trying to keep the subject off him.

"She works here; our best forensic lab tech."

"Can I meet her? I wanted to go into forensics, but when I left for college, I didn't have that much choice in what to do. It was either stay at home and go into the family business, or leave."

"Family business?" McGee questioned.

Sam shrugged, "What we do now, I guess. You could say we're… bounty hunters. But without all the money. We hunt things – like your killer clown. That's why we were in the house. And you can't keep us here for that long," he suddenly insisted. "Not without a warrant or evidence. And you don't have any. No fingerprints or scraps of skin… nothing."

"How do you know that?"

"Because me and my brother study things like this. Ask him."

"We have," both men turned to see Gibbs stood in the doorway. "Come on. We're going to call a few of your contacts and see what they say. Until then, your brother's insisted on a tour of the building."

Sam looked round Gibbs to see Dean grinning at him. Pushing his bangs out of his eyes again, he was about to say something, before Dean looked as though he'd been reminded of something.

"Any chance of some painkillers for my brother? Your agent nearly took his head off."

"Dean, I'm fine…" He tried to insist, but was cut off.

"Our ME, Dr Mallard should have something. Take 'em there first, McGee."

"I'm giving our suspects a tour?" He questioned incredulously.

"Nope – our witnesses."

Sam beamed at Dean when he got out the room, "How'd you convince him it wasn't us?"

"Bit of the Dean Winchester charm. And besides, if they let us work with them, we might get more information than we got before. And more resources."

"Dean, I really don't think they've got guns stocked up with salt here. Besides, they need to know that what they're looking for isn't human."

"Really, Sammy? And how are you going to convince them about that?"

Sam chewed his lip and sighed.

**Next chapter should have them meeting Abby and Ducky, and then Tony and Ziva find out a few things about old man Winchester :) Like it? Please review, it seriously doesn't take very long, and really does spur me on :) xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey :) Thanks again for all the reviews; I'm so glad people are enjoying this :) And I have to admit, it's really fun to write my first supernatural fic :D**

Send In The Clowns

"So, what did you say your ME's name was again?" Sam asked as they went down in the elevator towards the morgue.

"Doctor Mallard; or Ducky." McGee answered, still wondering why he was giving these guys a tour. Gibbs' gut must have been turning like crazy about them, or he wouldn't have let them go. Something was – to use Abby's word – hinky.

"Oh yeah, that guy I met at the scene," Dean nodded. "You know, I am _sure _that I know that name from somewhere… I just can't place it…"

Sam nodded in agreement, "We must have met on a case or something. Hey, Dean – if we did; he can back up our story, and then they can let us go!"

Dean smiled at the hope in his brother's voice and shrugged, "You never know; but to be honest I don't mind it here. Nice tour, nice people," he grinned at McGee, "and we can help them find this killer clown."

Sam shuddered at his words, which made Dean chuckle and punch him in the shoulder playfully. He was about to say something when the elevator stopped, and McGee showed them out to a door on their left.

It opened as they walked near it, sliding open with a sound that was as familiar as the ME's name. It was really starting to annoy Sam – he _hated_ not knowing things – but then he met the doctor.

"Ducky…" McGee began, as he waited for the older man to turn around. When he did so, the oldest ones in the room turned when they heard Sam gasp in recognition.

"_Ducky_? _That_ Ducky? As in, Uncle Ducky?"

"_Uncle Ducky?_" McGee repeated incredulously, gazing at the Winchesters.

Dean shook his head and stared at the ME in amazement, "How could I have not remembered it was you? You look no different!"

Ducky stared at them for a moment, before he finally beamed and walked over; grasping both their hands warmly, "Look at you both! All grown up! Ah, Sam and Dean! It's been too long!"

"Yeah," Dean grinned, "About 17 years."

"How are you both? Dean, have you still not managed to convince your brother to get his hair cut?" Sam blushed slightly as they all turned to look at him.

"Nah, you know how stubborn he can get, Duck."

"Excuse me?" they turned to see McGee still stood there staring at them. "How do you all know each other?"

"One time we were staying with our Dad's friend; Bobby. And Ducky was staying there as well; he was Bobby's friend. And after the weekend Sam wouldn't stop talking about him."

Sam looked down at his feet, abashed.

"Why?" McGee asked.

"Because," Dean explained. "Poor, six year old Sammy lost his toy train at Bobby's garage. And Uncle Ducky bought him a new one and told great bed time stories." He said the last sentence rather mockingly while glancing over at Sam, so it was obvious he was quoting his brother, but he still grinned at Ducky warmly; so it was obvious he felt the same.

"Yes, Samuel did enjoy my stories," Ducky chuckled. "Why, I seem to recall a rather humorous one regarding…"

"Ah, Ducky?" McGee interrupted. "We don't really have time, Gibbs sent us on a tour, and said we should come to you first; Tony gave Sam a bit of a beating, and he could do with some painkillers."

"Dude, I don't, okay?" Sam argued. "First Dean, then your boss, now you? I'm fine; I'll tell you if it hurts, okay?"

Dean rolled his eyes, but conceded, "What'd I tell you, Duck? Stubborn as a mule."

"Why did Tony hit you to begin with?" Ducky asked. "On top of that; why are you here?"

Sam glanced over at Dean, who replied, "It's to do with hunting, Ducky. We were tracking that killer clown and somebody decided it would be fun to arrest us and treat us as suspects."

"Dean; he knows?" Sam hissed.

"Come on, Sammy, of course he does. You've seen Bobby's house. If you're in there, of course you know about that stuff."

"_I _didn't."

"Yeah well, you were gullible enough to believe me when I told you that Bobby was a Jedi knight and that he had to store his light sabres in a way that made them look like normal weapons."

McGee chuckled to himself, but stopped when Sam shot him a murderous look, "I was _six._"

"What are you all on about though?" McGee asked. "Hunting and weapons…"

"It's what we've been telling you," Dean replied. "We hunt for things like this."

"I can vouch for them both," Ducky told him. "Although I had hoped they wouldn't go into their family business when they got older, it seems fate decided otherwise."

"I went to college," Sam told him. "I got out for a while."

"Good for you, Samuel." Ducky smiled proudly, ignoring Dean rolling his eyes.

"It's er… it's Sam. No Samuel, no Sammy. Just Sam." The younger boy told him.

"Lighten up, Sammy; it's a term of endearment." Dean winked, leaning against a table in the morgue.

"Whatever," Sam mumbled, before continuing. "So. Think your boss'll listen to you? We have a bit of a bad track record when it comes to this stuff."

"He won't believe me," Ducky told him. "But I think he'll listen to his gut; which is always right. You'll get off."

Sam smiled at him and was about to say something, before he felt a stab of pain in his head. He yelped and doubled over, clutching at his head.

"Sam!" Dean grabbed him, trying to hold him upright, and watched as Sam stared off into the distance, his face still scrunched up in pain.

**SPN/NCIS**

"Man I hate small towns." Tony moaned as they pulled up outside a garage in Lawrence. They'd been told that John Winchester had worked here before he'd left the town; in what were considered to be suspicious circumstances.

"What is to hate?" Ziva asked as she got out of the car. "I would have thought it would make a community more together."

"That's not always a good thing, Ziva," Tony said. "Gossip spreads like wildfire. The whole town'll know about an affair before the husband does."

"Oh, I see," she laughed. "You are scared that when you get your hands on a woman, the whole town will be at your door with lamps and pitchknives."

"Torches and pitchforks," he corrected her, before saying, "Come on, let's see what we can learn about Winchester."

They walked towards the man at the garage who looked about 50, "Hi, are you Frank Lloyd?" Tony asked, placing his winning smile on his face. When the man nodded he continued. "I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS, and this is Officer Ziva David. Could we ask you a few questions?"

Frank looked shocked and confused, "What business does NCIS have around here?"

"Well, we're in the middle of a case, and a name came up that we need to look into," Tony explained. "Did you work here with a guy about 22 years ago, name of John Winchester?"

The man screwed up his face to think and then nodded, "Is he in some sort of trouble?" Frank asked. "'Cause it was only about 6 or 7 months ago that some more fellas came to ask about him."

"Really?" Tony asked. "Who were they? Can you describe them?"

"It's a bit fuzzy," Frank shrugged. "But there were 2 of 'em, and one was tall, with shaggy hair – kids nowadays, huh?" He scoffed. "The other was shorter, with shorter hair – more of a regulation cut if you ask me. And they were asking about him. Dunno why now, can't quite remember…"

Tony and Ziva flicked a glance to each other, both thinking the same thing. Why would the Winchester's need to ask some guy their father had worked with 20 odd years ago about the man himself?

"Did he act strange at all when you last saw him?"

Frank gave him a hard stare, "Son, he lost his wife and home in that fire. Wouldn't you act strange?"

Ziva grinned at Tony, "When did he disappear?" she asked him.

"It must have been about 1984," Frank said, thinking hard. "Yeah, '84, 'cause those kids of his were only small. Youngest must have been about 18 months last I saw him."

"Did he have any close friends who lived here?" Tony asked.

Frank shook his head, "Mary – his wife – was his whole life. Had some pals at work here, but he just drew himself away after the fire. He did keep visiting a local psychic though. Poor bastard."

"Did he ever say what the psychic was called?" Ziva asked.

Frank shook his head, and looked up at them both as a car pulled in, "Would you mind? I'm the only one here today, so…"

Ziva nodded, but then stopped, "One more question – do you have any idea what cause the fire in the Winchester's house?"

He shook his head, "None. The authorities said it was a gas leak – right in the baby's nursery no less. But John, he was insistent he'd seen something that night. I figure he just wants to blame something for it."

"Did he say what he'd seen?"

"He said…" he tailed off, seeing the woman in the car that had pulled in. "Emily!" he gasped. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled coldly through tears that were streaming down her face, "After all I did for you," she whispered. "The things I gave up. For you to go off with another woman? I don't think so, Frank."

"Miss? Emily, was it?" Tony tried to intervene, and put his hand on her car, with Ziva covering him, in case the woman pulled out a gun. "How about you get out of the car and we can all figure this out in a nice and quiet manner, hmm?"

"I don't think so," she barked out a laugh. "If I lose everything, so does everyone else. It's not fair! Why just me?"

With that, she reached down to something none of them could quite see. The car disappeared in a dramatic explosion which caught the gas pumps at the station as well, causing more explosions.

Emily, Frank and the agents weren't seen again in one piece.

**NCIS/SPN**

Sam took a huge gasp of air as if he hadn't had one for months and looked around, shocked by both what he was witnessed and by the fact that he was on his knees. Dean sat back slightly, satisfied that his brother was back with them, and stood up.

"Sam?" he asked. "You okay?"

"Those agents!" he gasped, and turned to McGee, who was looking more bewildered than ever. "You sent two of your agents to Lawrence, right?"

"Sammy, what did you see?" Dean insisted.

Sam ignored him and tried to shake McGee's shoulders, "This is important!"

"Er… yeah, yeah Ziva and Tony were sent there, they should be there…" he glanced at his watch, and Sam had half a second of hope that they could call the agents back before McGee said, "now."

"Call them!" Sam demanded. "Call them and tell them to stay away from the garage!"

"But I…"

"Do it!" Sam sounded so desperate, and Dean was also looking at McGee expectantly.

"My boy," Ducky started, his voice alone starting to calm Sam. "What happened?"

"I get these… daydreams," he explained quickly, watching as McGee scrolled down his phone to reach Tony's number. "And they… come true."

Ducky looked over at Dean, "It's true." He said simply, trying to help his brother out.

"Call your friends and tell them to grab the garage station attendant and run. Hell, try and stop the woman in the car."

"What?" McGee stumbled, wondering what was going on. His fingers seemed to have taken control though, and before he knew it he was calling Tony.

"Tell him whatever you have to." Sam ordered, before turning back to Ducky, who was still staring at him.

"Look, Duck, it's like this," Dean started to explain. "Sammy gets premonitions and they're almost always about death. And it's always surrounding the yellow-eyed demon."

"The one that killed your mother?" Ducky questioned. You weren't friends with Bobby Singer if you were shocked by these things. And John had told Ducky a few things about what started him hunting in the first place.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "So right now, we gotta wonder what happened and who was involved."

"Tony?" they turned to watch as McGee talked to DiNozzo. "Er… the ah… Gibbs wants you and Ziva back asap."

"_What? Why?"_

"Because… because the Winchesters escaped," he shrugged at Dean when the man gave him a 'what the hell?' expression. "And er… he needs you both back here."

"_He needs us?"_

"That's the wording. So you and Ziva need to grab the guy at the gas station and the woman in the car, and run."

"_How did you know we were talking to a guy in a gas station?"_

"It doesn't matter, but Gibbs said you have to leave – now."

He heard a sigh, _"Okay, McBossy, we're leaving. Ziva, we're going to have to…Miss? Emily, was it? How about…"_

"DiNozzo, get out now!" McGee yelled, as he saw Sam's eyes widen – the phone was on loudspeaker.

"She's got a bomb!" Sam cried out – knowing it wouldn't really do much good but still hoping. He didn't want to lose a person because he hadn't tried.

The room went silent as an almighty explosion echoed from the other end of the phone.

**SPN/NCIS**

Tony has gotten the phone call just as Frank was telling them about a psychic that Winchester contacted. McGee had told him the remaining Winchesters had escaped, and Gibbs needed them back. But the junior agent was acting strangely, and telling him to grab the guy and get out of there. And to leave the woman who had pulled up. He didn't know how McGee knew all this, but a voice on the other end had yelled, _'She's got a bomb!' _and when he looked he saw how tense she was; how her hands kept twitching towards something – he knew they were telling the truth.

"Ziva, Frank – run!" Ziva didn't need telling twice and grabbed the older man's arm, pulling him with her as she ran away from the car and gas station.

"What are we doing?" Frank asked. "That was my ex-wife!"

"You'll thank me later." Ziva gasped as they ran. She hadn't looked back but knew Tony was following. The explosion had gone off moments before, and they had reached a safe distance.

"Tony?" she turned back and saw that Tony had followed. He was a little worse for wear, with cuts, scrapes and bruises – and Gibbs was going to kill him if that wheezing didn't stop.

"I'm good… Do me a favour. Call McGee. I dropped my phone by that car when she went for the switch."

"I can't believe… Emily wouldn't do something like…" Frank was at a loss for words, but looked at the agents as sirens were heard in the distance. "You're not going to take me with you, are you?" he asked. "I need to stay here."

"We'll be in touch if we have any questions." Tony told him, and started towards Ziva. Their car had been blown in the explosion. They'd either have to hitch a lift of get McGee to send someone down. He preferred the second choice.

"Oh, by the way," Tony turned back to look at Frank, who was slowly making his way back to the fiery wreck of his garage. "Were you keeping sulphur or something in there?"

Frank looked confused. "No. Why?"

Tony shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I just… I could've sworn I could smell sulphur when Emily flicked the switch."

**Oooh, the plot thickens. Maybe… this wasn't where I wanted to leave it – you were going to get to see the brothers meet Abby, but that would have turned it into a very long chapter; and I'm tired – so if I'd kept going, who knows WHEN you'd have gotten it ;) Review? xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hiya :) Sorry about the wait – hitting my head off the desk is all I can do at the moment . And also; someone made a very good point that Tony and Ziva wouldn't be able to reach Kansas in that time…**

**XD I don't have an excuse; apart from poor knowledge of geography, and I live in a small country! I'm sure in a day someone could drive from John O Groats to Land's End… maybe lol. Let's just say that Tony managed to convince Gibbs to buy them their own jet – it goes 500 mph ;)**

_Previously:_

_"She's got a bomb!" Sam cried out – knowing it wouldn't really do much good but still hoping. He didn't want to lose a person because he hadn't tried._

_The room went silent as an almighty explosion echoed from the other end of the phone._

**

* * *

**

Ducky, McGee, Dean and Sam gazed at the phone, shocked. McGee looked faintly sick, but Sam looked down at the floor, as if resigned. He looked as though he knew it was going to happen whatever happened.

"Hey," Dean said quietly, touching his brother on the shoulder. "It wasn't your fault," Sam glanced up at him, his eyes shining and his face set – and Dean knew exactly what he was thinking. "This doesn't make you evil, Sam." Dean sighed, glaring at him.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but then jumped as McGee's phone started to ring. He looked down at it in disbelief then exclaimed, "It's Ziva!" he flipped it open. "Are you okay? Did… Thank God… Is the garage guy…? Good. No, I don't…" He glanced over at Sam, looking scared, "I don't know… I just… He's what? Great. Gibbs'll kill him. I'll tell Ducky. Nah, it's okay… Alright… Yeah, you get back now. Alright. Bye."

He hung up and glanced around them. "It's okay," he told them, and Sam blew out gently, pushing a hand through his hair. "They got away just in time. They couldn't save the woman who set the bomb off, but the guy they were interviewing got away. They're heading back now. Oh," he added, remembering something, "and, Ducky, Ziva said that Tony's been wheezing ever since."

Ducky tutted, "That boy will be the death of either myself or Jethro one of these days."

"What's so bad about wheezing?" Sam asked, colour returning to his pale face.

"Tony got a severe case of pneumonia last year." McGee said, not bothering to say 'plague'. "He almost died. Now he still has to make sure he doesn't get a cold or anything."

"Would it kill him?" Sam asked.

"No, but Gibbs would." McGee replied.

"Gibbs would what, McGee?" McGee closed his eyes as Gibbs entered the morgue. The older agent immediately saw a few things wrong with the scene. For starters; the Winchester's were _still _there and the younger one had gone an odd colour, but patches of colour were returning on his face. Ducky was getting various medical equipment out that were usually used to check patient's breathing, blood pressure and so on. And McGee was clutching his phone like a life-line.

"McGee," He said, "what's happened?"

"Er… Well, Boss, it was like this… I called… ah… I mean, Sam told me that… In Kansas I called…"

"Your agents were caught up in an explosion," Dean cut in smoothly. "We warned them in time and they got out okay, and are flying back. How was that difficult?" He asked McGee, who was almost sweating with the pressure.

"It's probably because we're used to telling people weird news like that." Sam muttered, looking down when Gibbs looked over at him suspiciously.

"So you're saying, that you warned Tony and Ziva that there was going to be an explosion in _Lawrence_, and called them and got them away."

"That's it." Dean confirmed.

Gibbs looked over to Ducky, who said, "Why don't I make a cup of tea, and tell you about the Winchesters, Jethro?"

**SPN/NCIS**

"Tony? Would you like me to drive for a while?" Ziva asked, as they got out of the airport and into a hired car. The Senior Field Agent was quite pale, and his breathing still sounded laboured, but he shook his head resolutely.

"No way, Ziva… the next time we almost get… blown up is when you… can drive. Anyway… that paramedic said I'd be… fine to fly… and that means I'm… fine."

Ziva knew when to leave the conversation alone, and instead asked, "How do you think McGee knew it would happen?"

"Didn't you… hear the phone, Zee-vah?" he teased slightly. "One of the… Winchesters yelled down it… I bet they have something… to do with it…"

Just then, Ziva's phone rang. Looking at the caller ID she glanced over at Tony before answering, "Gibbs." Tony's jaw dropped and he fixed his gaze on the road. "Yes, he's fine. A paramedic cleared him for flying. Are you sure? Okay. Yes. We will see you later."

She closed the phone and gave Tony a Gibbs-slap.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. "What was that for?"

"Gibbs told me to do it," she explained. "And told me to tell you that you had better be ready for another one when we get there, and that Ducky is on standby to examine you."

"Great." Tony scowled, his hands tightening on the wheel.

**NCIS/SPN**

Gibbs stared at Ducky, before staring at the Winchesters. McGee was quite glad Tony wasn't there, because if he was, the 'Holy crap he's speechless' comment that would no doubt occur might just mean Gibbs would get to shoot something today.

Sam shuffled his feet awkwardly as Gibbs's gaze fell on them again, and Dean just leant back on a table and crossed his arms, waiting for the older man to say something.

"Duck…" Gibbs started. "You do know there's no such thing, don't you? Monsters, ghosts, demons…"

"Oh believe me," Dean said, "there is."

"Yeah, and you're searching for something that might not be human." Sam inputted.

"And we need to call our friend Bobby and see if he knows anything, I need my car back, and we need to finish our tour." Dean declared.

Gibbs stared at them a while longer before standing up from where he'd been sat with Ducky, "Okay," he sighed. "Fine. There's something not quite right about you two, and I've never known Ducky to be wrong." Ducky chuckled and nodded courteously to Gibbs.

"Great," Dean said. "Glad we managed to get things straightened out. Now – my car? It's got our… equipment in it, and we sure could use it."

"Equipment?" McGee questioned. "What, like, holy water or crosses or something?" he snickered.

"Don't forget the rock salt," Dean mumbled, before glancing over at Gibbs. "So how about it, sir?" Sam frowned at his brother; Dean was rarely so respectful to anyone. "Do we get to see some more? What you got in the lab or something?"

Gibbs breathed out slowly, looked over at Ducky one more time and nodded, "I'm sure Abby'd love to meet you both."

"Yeah, I bet she would." McGee muttered glumly – the supernatural and two handsome guys. Abby would _love_ it.

* * *

As they wandered down a corridor, they heard a piece of dramatic music playing.

"Huh," McGee mused. "That's odd. She usually listens to death metal." Dean's eyes lit up and he grinned over at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

"Abby!" Gibbs yelled over the music, before switching it off.

"Gibbs!" she yelled back, pouting. "I was in the zone!"

"We've got company." He said drily, cocking his thumb over his shoulder to introduce the Winchesters.

If he had any doubts about them being innocent, they were soon quashed when Sam walked in and jumped almost a mile in the air at coming face to face with a life size, cardboard cut-out of a clown.

"Oh, that," Abby smiled. "I was just wondering what the murderer would look like. You like it?"

Sam shot her a wide-eyed look and hastily moved further into the room away from it.

Dean, on the other hand, made a far better first impression and positively glided into the room, a winning smile on his face, "Hi," he beamed, "I'm Dean Winchester."

"Abby." She introduced herself, and felt herself giggling like a schoolgirl as he took her hand and kissed it.

"Oh please." Sam muttered.

"That's my brother, Sam. Ignore the entrance, he doesn't like clowns. You should've seen what happened the last time we went to McDonald's." Dean winked at his brother, who felt an overwhelming urge to punch him. Hard.

"Wait, aren't you our suspects? Yet you're afraid of clowns?" She questioned, looking over at Gibbs.

"They aren't suspects anymore," he told her. "They're helping."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Helping?" she repeated.

"Yeah, sweetheart; we deal with weird creatures – monsters you could call them, and… ow!" Dean yelped as Abby grabbed his arm and yanked it behind his back.

"Don't you 'sweetheart' me, Winchester." She growled, and Sam managed to stop laughing for a moment to actually go over and gently extract Dean from her death grip.

"Ignore him, he's a jerk," he beamed over at his brother, who was rubbing his arm and staring forlornly at Abby's tattoos. "But, we do hunt these things that aren't… aren't considered real. Ask your boss."

She looked over at Gibbs, who just shrugged and nodded.

"Cool," she grinned. "So we're hunting a ghost, vampire, what?"

Both Winchesters stared at her, their eyes wide. "What?" She questioned again. "This sounds like the most fun case we've had in ages!"

"It's better to just go along with her." McGee mumbled.

Sam smiled at her slightly and replied, "We don't know what we're up against yet – we need to ring our friend, Bobby."

"And is he as handsome as you?" She asked coyly, causing Sam to blush and shuffle his feet slightly, laughing a bit.

"Oh yeah, Bobby looks as though he was sculpted by angels." Dean spat, unhappy at being rejected in favour of his brother.

"Or are you just a bit of a pig?" She asked Sam, glaring over at Dean.

"Ah…" he paused a bit, surprised that she had spurned Dean's advances like that, but quickly said, "so, Clint Mansell, huh?" he asked, nodding towards the CD player, "'Requiem for a Dream' isn't bad, but I think I prefer 'Together we will live forever'."

Abby beamed.

**SPN/NCIS**

"I told you I was fine, Duck." Tony sighed, as he pulled the armband off that measured his blood pressure. His breathing had returned to normal when they were driving, and he couldn't wait to see how McGee would get his way out of this one. How in the hell did he know there was a bomb?

"Well, I would call Dr Pitt, just to make sure he…"

"Ducky, I'm _fine._" Tony insisted, and was sure he heard loud laughter coming from Abby's lab.

"Where is everyone?" Ziva asked, also hearing the noise. "Abby's lab?"

"Yes," Ducky nodded. "I think she and the Winchesters will get on like a house on fire."

"What?" Tony gasped. "Why aren't they still in interrogation? They have one whacked out family – the dad, John Winchester, he…"

"Was a good man," Ducky finished for him. On seeing both agent's faces, he explained. "I knew him – we met through a mutual friend. Those boys we have didn't do it. In fact, Jethro has allowed them to help us."

"What?" Tony cried out in surprise, again. "Why?"

And never one to pass up the opportunity to tell the same story again, Ducky began.

**So, yeah :) And Gibbs might not seem that in character – I mean, letting other people in on the investigation and believing them, but if Ducky was so sure of it, and his gut was twitching ;) And also, the fact that Abby's listening to the theme from Requiem for a dream is purely because as I was writing that scene, I was also listening to it lol**

**So, there we go :) Now all that exposition is finally out of the way we can begin the investigation :D Review? xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**I think I should permanently copy and paste 'Sorry about the wait' to all my stories . I **_**am **_**sorry, but what can you do when the muse has decided to have a Christmas break? Speaking of, Merry Christmas :D And to those of you who don't celebrate it… er, merry weekday?**

All agents and hunters were now sat in the bullpen. After a quick bonding session which included McGee introducing Sam to various equipment and Dean and Tony discussing their various sexual conquests, it was time for some work.

"So, what exactly do you think we're dealing with?" Gibbs asked the Winchesters, as they were all sat on various chairs around the bullpen. Well, all but Sam who had lost rock paper scissors in favour of the last chair, and was now sat on the floor leaning against McGee's desk. He _knew _Dean had been strategising with his forever scissors tactic – the _one _time he really didn't want to lose, and Dean whips out the paper.

"Well we know it's not a ghost," Dean told him, spinning his chair slightly whilst he thought. "If spirits get violent, they usually kill people in the same way they were killed."

"And as far as we know, no one has ever been killed whilst wearing a clown suit and been asphyxiated, had their throats cut and drowned in popcorn." Sam concluded.

"Which would have been hilarious." Dean chipped in.

"Dean, it's not hilarious the way they died! These were people!"

"Come on; you have to admit it's a bit funny, almost poetic."

"How is it poetic?"

"Well, it's a clown – and all the deaths are like circus acts gone wrong."

"When have you ever seen a circus act that involves pom-poms being stuffed down someone's throat?"

"If you don't stop arguing I'm gonna stuff something down your throat, and…"

"Real mature – maybe I'll deflate the Impala's tires…"

"If you even so much as _touch_…"

"Enough!" Everyone jumped when Gibbs yelled. "I swear to God – you two are bickering like toddlers! I have half a mind to send you into corners! Now shut up and focus!"

The brothers were silenced in their 'bickering' (Dean liked to think of it as banter really) and glanced at each other, both looking exactly like woe begotten toddlers who had been told off as they looked down at the floor.

"Better," Gibbs stated, glaring at Tony who had started to snicker (Before being kicked in the ankle by Dean) _'When did I start running a playschool?'_ Gibbs sighed, before continuing. "Now – what _could _it be?"

"Could be demonic possession." Sam said thoughtfully, the telling off forgotten about.

"Which would fit the random killings – and hey, even demons have a sense of humour." Dean said, looking over to see if this had pushed Sam's buttons.

"Dean, it _wasn't _humorous!" He didn't disappoint, but was quickly silenced by a glare from Gibbs.

"How would we know if it was a demon?" Gibbs asked, feeling incredibly weird to even ask this question out loud in a professional environment – this seemed like the kind of thing that McGee would do on weekends.

"Was there any sulphur at any of the crime scenes?" Dean asked.

"Sulphur?" Tony questioned.

"Yeah, it's…" Sam began to explain.

Tony quickly cut him off, "Yeah, I know what it _is_ – I could smell it in Lawrence just before that bomb. I asked the garage owner if he had any but he looked at me like I was insane."

Dean huffed, "Yeah, welcome to our world."

"Maybe the demon caused the explosion." Sam pitched.

"It was a woman called Emily," Ziva told them. "She seemed to be angry with Frank – the owner – about leaving her."

"That's not normal demon behaviour; they wouldn't take their vessel's motives into account…" Sam said, pushing his hand through his hair as he thought. "But it could explain why I had the vision." he had turned to Dean by now, mainly talking to him.

"You think this is the yellow eyed demon?" Dean asked.

"Well why else would I have the vision, Dean?" he countered. "Whenever I have these it's about him. Maybe he was possessing the woman to try and kill someone asking questions about Dad."

"Or maybe we've found someone else who's a bit… different." Dean narrowed his eyes and looked between Ziva and Tony.

"Dean – neither of them were born in 1983 so it wouldn't fit the pattern." Sam reminded him.

"Um – hello?" Tony said, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"There's this demon with yellow eyes…" Sam started.

"Yeah, I got that from his name," Tony butted in.

"And he's been stalking our family for a while," Sam continued as if he'd never been interrupted. "I get these visions – like the one in autopsy – that are always surrounding death _and _the demon. We think this was the one that killed our Mom too." He added at the end, softly.

"I thought your Mom died in a fire?" McGee questioned.

"Our Dad heard her scream on night and ran upstairs," Dean explained quietly. "And he found her pinned to the ceiling above Sam's crib… then she burst into flames and took the house down with her. Dad found out it was this demon."

The whole bullpen was quiet for a second, before Gibbs broke the silence, "Do you think that what happened here and what happened in Lawrence are linked?"

Sam blinked at the sudden return to normalcy (Well… kind of) and replied, "Probably not – there would have been signs about the demonic activity – I'm sure if we look there were signs in Lawrence."

"We should leave Lawrence alone for now," Dean said, stunning his brother. "And focus on this."

"But, Dean!" Sam argued. "We could have a lead on the demon! Why are you so intent on staying here? I'm sure the agents have it covered!"

"Sammy, they _need _us here, man," Dean explained, unusually gentle. "Believe me I want to get the son of a bitch just as much as you – but we don't have any leads on him; not really. Just something that got blown up. Try and focus on this instead – alright?"

Sam pursed his lips but nodded, standing up from his position on the floor and stretching.

"Starting to wish you'd chosen scissors this time?" Dean teased, back to his normal self.

"Shut up," Sam grumbled, choosing to perch on the side of a desk instead. "If you haven't found any sulphur, I don't think it's a demon." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again.

Dean – knowing his brother inside out - knew all his little tells, and he saw that Sam was getting stressed. With good reason though, Dean mused, as he had a vision, possible links to he demon and some sort of supernatural creature that they couldn't figure out – all in one day.

"Maybe we should give it a rest for the day," he suggested. "It'll give us chance to refresh, think a bit more and I sure as hell had better get my car back soon."

Gibbs nodded, "Good idea. I've already called and your car's coming as we speak. We should all get a good night's sleep and try and figure out what we're dealing with," he turned to look at the brothers. "How do we figure it out?"

"Sammy's got it covered," Dean grinned. "He _loves _research." Sam tutted, but didn't deny the claim.

"Alright then – meet back here at 0800 tomorrow." Gibbs told them.

"Cool – any good motels in the area?" Dean asked as the others were hastily grabbing their belongings.

Gibbs hesitated, "DiNozzo!"

Tony paused, looking pained at the thought of staying longer, "Yeah, Boss?" he asked hesitantly.

"Show the Winchesters a motel near the Navy yard. And stay with them," he eyes them both. "They might just bolt suddenly."

"Without my car?" Dean exclaimed. "Who would do that?"

"Shut up, Dean – it's just better to go along with it," Sam muttered, before finishing his sentence aloud. "I'm gonna say bye to Ducky."

"No need, my dear boy!" they all turned to see the ME striding towards them. "I came up to talk to you, Jethro – but as the boys are leaving I'll have a word with them instead."

"Make sure it is just a word, Duck," Gibbs told him. "They need to get rest and figure this out."

Regarding this, Ducky simply said goodbye to the brothers and proceeded to talk to Gibbs.

* * *

Once set up in the motel – Sam trying to keep Tony's attention on him while Dean paid and signed with a fake card and name – they set up. Both boys were similarly happily reunited with their respective car/laptop and while Dean happily discussed various sports/cars/girls with Tony whilst cleaning some weapons, Sam was busy researching.

He'd set up his laptop on his bed. As soon as they'd gotten in – even though Dean was coming through the door last, he still threw his stuff onto the bed nearest the door, leaving Sam to the one furthest away. Tony had seen this and was about to ask why, but changed his mind, figuring he was just reading too much into it. So it was on the second bed that Sam was lying, his head resting on his chin when not typing, his feet nearly touching the headboard as he'd decided to face out and do his research.

He rolled his eyes as the other men burst into loud laughter at some anecdote that was probably at some poor girl's expense, but to his surprise (Although he shouldn't have been surprised, really) it was about him.

"Sammy!" Dean called over. "Remember that motel we stayed in once where Dad forgot to tick the box on the form that said 'child restrictions' for the TV? You flicked on thinking you'd be watching Thundercats, and I come in and see you watching some German chick getting a little hot in the photocopier room with the mail boy!" He burst into laughter, which Tony did as well, causing Sam to start blushing.

"I didn't know what I was watching – I thought it was the commercials!" he insisted, blushing even more.

"Dude how could you think that _that_…" Dean howled with laughter, the beers he'd had making him overly happy.

"I was _five_!" Sam argued, but gave up and hoped that he gave off an air of not caring and ignored them while he searched the web.

* * *

Tony had to admit that – whatever kind of screwy life Dean led; he was a fun guy to hang out with. They'd each swapped anecdotes about Sam and McGee, various women and were just starting to argue about which football team were better, when a small noise starting humming from the general direction of Sam's laptop.

Dean looked over and grinned. Sam had fallen asleep on his keyboard from where he'd been lying on the bed, and the numerous buttons he was pressing with his cheek contributed to the sound. You could see which notes from the piles scattered around him had been made when he was most tired, the writing becoming bigger and more scrawled. There was even one bit that went on in a line from where his hand had relaxed when he'd finally succumbed to sleep and drifted down the page.

"One sec – I gotta put my baby brother to bed." He teased, shooting this at his brother – regardless of whether Sam could hear or not – and stood up from where they'd been at the table. Firstly doing the most important thing; which was getting as many pictures in his phone as possible, he gently slid the laptop away and let Sam's head drop the few inches onto the bed. He then moved the notes and sat them beside the computer and grabbed a pillow that he then slowly positioned under his brother so that he wouldn't get a crick in his neck.

Tony watched all of this with an amused smile on his face, "That looks well rehearsed."

Dean grinned as he sat back down and grabbed his beer, "I've put that kid to bed more than he has. Though it was mostly because he either stayed up to read or watch cartoons."

Tony grinned too but then glanced at the clock on the wall, "He does seem to have had the right idea though. We need to be back at NCIS for 8."

Dean conceded and got into bed wearing just his boxers. Tony lay on the sofa, not bothering changing as he had fresh clothes in the bullpen – plus it was cold. It wasn't long before Dean fell asleep, the alcohol in his system helping the way no doubt, Tony thought shrewdly. Tony had had to stick to water as he had work the following day, but wished he did have that beer in his system – he was finding it impossible to sleep.

He focussed instead on watching the brothers (Not in a creepy way, he assured himself) – after all, Gibbs had told him to watch them. They could still run away; Dean had his beloved car now. He was quite fascinated really – Dean seemed to either sleep facing the door or facing his brother; never the ceiling. Sam either faced his brother or the ceiling. But the weird thing was; if Dean turned away from Sam, Sam would immediately turn so he was facing his brother, and vice versa: if Dean was facing the door and Sam rolled onto his back, Dean would roll so that he was facing Sam.

It was as if they were so attuned to each other that, even whilst sleeping they knew what the other was doing or thinking. Tony liked the fact that they both seemed to know at least one of them had an eye on the other. He wished he had a brother sometimes – although that may not have been a good thing, a brother may have been corrupted by his dad and joined the family business.

* * *

Before he knew it, the alarm was going off, and he rolled over (And nearly off the sofa) to see that Dean and Sam were both waking as well. Dean grumpily punched the 'off' button and got out of bed. Sam pulled himself off the bed with a huff and simply mumbled, "Thanks for the pillow." Dean in turn gave a grunt and went into the bathroom, closing the door as Tony could hear the sound of the shower starting.

He guessed that neither brother was much of a morning person. Although there wasn't much urgency today, he mused – if there was something important they'd probably leap up and go. He went over to the kettle in the room and brewed some strong coffee, adding plenty of sugar and cream.

Sam was drawn to it by the smell and poured some in his own mug, taking a few sips before Dean came back out of the bathroom, fully clean and dressed. The brothers seemed to change places and Tony found the shower going again and Dean stood next to him; practically downing Sam's mug in one.

He made a face soon after, however, "Ugh, how does he drink it like that?" he complained, and poured more without adding sugar and cream. Tony quirked a smile and guessed Dean was in an okay mood to talk now.

"You thought of anything it could be yet?" he asked, finishing his coffee and going to put his shoes on.

"Naw, I got nothing," Dean lamented, turning to do the same and put his boots on. "I'm sure Sammy'll have a few ideas – you saw how many notes he made last night. And he didn't talk once – he does the brainstorming thing better in his head so he must have something."

Just at that, Sam came out of the shower, clean and pulling on a fresh shirt. He too went to get his boots.

"You got any ideas?" Tony asked, eager to hear more stories of supernatural creatures. He was however, disappointed.

"I got a few," Sam shared, standing up and grabbing his notes and laptop before following Dean outside to the Impala. "But I'll tell you when we get there; I don't really want to repeat myself."

"Come on, Sammy – I thought you loved the sound of your own voice." Dean taunted as they threw some stuff in the trunk.

"That's _you_, Dean," he huffed. "And the only things you ever repeat is 'Wanna come back to mine' and 'touch that volume dial and I'll kill you'."

Dean grimaced, "Sammy I'm slightly hurt. But if you _do _touch the volume…"

"I know," Sam sighed, sliding into shotgun while Tony took a backseat. "And uh, thanks. For, you know – not letting me sleep on my laptop all night."

There was a small beat, before Dean replied, "No problem. Besides, I got plenty of pictures of you drooling on your keyboard. Oughtta make a few bucks with them."

"Dude, you _dare_, and I will…"

"Oh, what; you gonna put some salsa music in the car? Use a bit of glue? Sorry, Sammy – but nothing tops the nair."

Tony looked from one brother to the other, baffled.

It seemed to be a regular feeling around the Winchesters.

**Yay :D Bit longer for you because I felt bad :) Please review? I honestly do love every review, even if it just says one or two words :) xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey :) Thanks so much for all the reviews, I love that you all seemed to like the characterisation of the boys – I miss how they were in early seasons :'( Also, apologies for how short this chapter is :S Anywho; onto the story ;)**

On arriving in the Bullpen that morning, McGee was puzzled as to why Abby was sat there, twirling around in a chair.

"Morning, Abbs," he greeted, setting his stuff down on his desk. "What are you doing up here?"

"I wanted to listen to the case!" she beamed excitedly. "Monsters and demons – it's amazing! I _knew _this stuff was out there! Besides," she added, "I heard that you needed a couple of extra chairs – I couldn't have Sam sitting on the floor again."

McGee remained silent. At first he wanted to ask her _how _she knew what had gone on the other afternoon, and then he wanted to ask how much she liked Sam. Instead, he gave her a tight smile and sat at his desk.

Ziva was the next to arrive, smiling at them both and sitting down, before asking, "Is Gibbs here yet?"

Abby nodded, "He just went for coffee. That's _three _already this morning."

She looked worried, and McGee hurriedly tried to console her, "It'll be fine, Abbs – you know what Gibbs is like; this supernatural stuff is weird," he glanced around for a second and leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's in way over his head and doesn't have a clue what to do."

"Is that a fact, McGee?" Abby pushed her chair away from him and hastily went to join Ziva on the other side of the bullpen as Gibbs appeared to the side of McGee's desk.

McGee gulped and started to pale slightly, "I didn't mean it like that, Boss… I meant, er, well – I mean, we're all… ah…"

He was saved slightly by the elevator announcing the arrival of Tony and the Winchesters. Gibbs took it as good news that Sam was clutching a laptop bag and various scribbled notes.

"Hey, Boss." Tony greeted, sitting at his desk and grabbing the comfy chair, leaving Dean to the less comfy one. Dean didn't seem fazed, and darted to it, beating Sam there by inches. The younger brother huffed and looked set to go over to his spot on the floor, before Abby called him over.

"Here, Sam – I brought a spare chair up from downstairs for you." He grinned awkwardly at her and took it, thanking her.

She blushed – something McGee had _never_ seen – and stayed stood there for a while, until Gibbs asked, "Something you need, Abbs?"

She started slightly, "Oh! Sorry, I guess this is secret, special agent stuff. I'll be downstairs, I guess… If you need me." She smiled at Sam again and darted away.

Dean smirked, "Looks like she's into you, Sammy."

Sam blushed slightly, "Shut up, Dean – she isn't. She was just being nice."

"C'mon, Dude – it's obvious she's into you. I'm sure you could work… _closely _with her down in forensics."

Sam – definitely the more tactful of the two – noticed McGee clench his fists slightly, "Back off, Dean. Are we gonna do this or what?"

Dean put his hands up in mock surrender, but was still smirking as Sam got his notes and laptop out, deciding to set it up at Gibbs's desk, as he felt like McGee would kill him soon.

"Okay, I was doing research last night, and I just kept getting stupid sites about killer clowns that were targeting teenagers – one of them was the Hellhounds site," he grinned at Dean, who snorted in response, "but nothing," he continued, "that would be any help."

"That's it?" Gibbs questioned, feeling like a fourth coffee was in order.

"I wasn't done," Sam said, a hint of a scowl on his face. "I came across something that could be what we're looking for. He booted up his laptop and plugged it in so it came up on screen.

Instead of the webpage he'd saved, several pictures of him, asleep on his laptop came up.

"Dean!" he yelled. "Stop touching my stuff! What's wrong with you?"

Dean was howling with laughter at the sight of the pictures on a big screen, and had yet to respond. Sam – a glare on his face that would have been scary had the agents not been exposed to the Gibbs glare – turned back to his laptop and with a few clicks deleted the pictures and had his webpage on.

"We know that in all these scenarios the kids always survive, right?" he said, trying to retain some dignity by pretending the picture thing had never happened. "Well there's this… creature that allegedly comes into homes and finds the children in bed at night. It appears as whatever the kid is most frightened of; although in some cases it goes to one and then stays as it did the first time, keeping in a constant state. Lore and some eye-witness accounts say that the creature offers the kids a chance to live – but it twists its words, saying it'll visit their parents instead. And – kids being kids – they didn't realise it meant it would kill them."

He stood back slightly, waiting for them to process it. Eventually, it was Dean who broke the silence, "Alright – did you find out what it's called?"

"Er…" he paused, glancing around. "It's gonna sound… nuts," Dean snorted, "but everything I've read indicates… Bogeyman."

Tony chuckled, "Seriously?" he asked, as neither brother seemed to respond. "Come on – even if its real – how do you kill the Bogeyman?"

"If we find it when it's just killed or had some blood – it takes a bit of blood from each victim – and shoot it with bullets made of bone, we should manage it." Sam said, not realising just how bizarre that sounded.

"Dude – we're not going to just watch a family get slaughtered so we can kill this thing." Dean argued.

"If it is this thing," Tony chipped in. "You were tired last night," he reminded Sam. "You could have made a mistake."

"We can ask one of the kids," Sam insisted. "See if they saw it and if it tried to bargain with them."

They all looked over at Gibbs, "We still have access to the daughter of the gunnery sergeant who was murdered the other day – we could have her here in about an hour."

* * *

"Hi, Samantha," Gibbs smiled at the little girl. "You remember me, right? I'm Agent Gibbs. I know you said you didn't see anything before – but it's really important that you tell us anything at all."

Samantha looked down at her feet. When first questioned she said she hadn't seen anything – and that was after they managed to coax her into talking.

"Let me have a go," Dean said. "I know what I'm asking for."

He knelt so he was at eye level with her and smiled benignly at her, "Hey, Sammy…"

"My name's not Sammy." She told him, scowling.

Dean chuckled, "I get that a lot," he told her, before sobering. "Sorry, Samantha – but this is real important. Do you …"

"What did you mean?" she asked. "What do you get a lot?"

Dean blinked, thrown off by a seemingly random question, "My brother's name's Sam – and he doesn't like being called Sammy."

Sam shuffled slightly. Truth was he didn't mind it – as long as it was just Dean.

"Oh," Samantha replied. "Do you live with him? I wish I had a brother."

Dean smiled at her and nudged Sam forward, "This is Sam. Sammy – meet Samantha." He smirked at them and stepped back. Sam had less experience with children that Dean himself – after all, Sam had no younger sibling to look after – and Dean wasn't sure what he'd do.

"Hi, Samantha," Sam smiled. "I guess we've kind of got the same name."

"I guess," she replied. "I used to draw things that had the same name as me."

"What kind of things?" he asked, trying to get her to relax and trust him.

"Unicorns, princesses – I drew circuses too. All the clowns were…" she stopped.

"Do you want to do some drawing now?" Sam asked quickly.

She beamed at him, "With you?"

"Ah…" he paused, flustered, ignoring the chuckling he could hear from Dean. "Sure, that sounds fun."

He pulled a pained face at Dean as she took his hand and pulled him over to a table that had paper and pens on it.

* * *

Nearly half an hour later, Samantha was babbling excitedly about all the things she'd drawn.

"And this is Queen Samantha – and this is her castle! And that's her bedroom, she's got a big rocking horse, and a pool, and…"

"Hey, Samantha?" Sam interrupted, pointing at something. "What's that?"

She looked down at the paper, "That's her wardrobe," she told him. "And that's the clown that lives in there."

"She has a clown living in her wardrobe?" Sam asked casually, his heart starting to pound slightly – this was looking good to be the Bogeyman.

She nodded sadly, "Can I tell you a secret?" she asked. When he nodded, she pulled him down by his hair so she could whisper in his ear. He saw the agents and Dean watching and he turned his attention to her.

"One night the clown came out – she was just_ Princess_ Samantha then - but then the clown said that he wanted to meet the King and Queen – her Mommy and Daddy. She said yes, because everyone likes clowns. Then she didn't hear anything, and she wanted to know where the clown had gone. But when she looked, the King and Queen were… sleeping. And the clown wasn't there."

She had tears in her eyes as Sam slowly straightened up. He nodded over at Gibbs, who came over and took Samantha's hand. "Come on, Samantha," he said gently. "I think we've got some ice cream down in the cafeteria with your name on it."

She nodded and followed him, waving goodbye to Sam.

"Dude, looks like you've got yourself another prospective girlfriend." Dean winked at him.

"Shut up, Dean." Sam said wearily, looking through Samantha's pictures.

"Wow, you're a bit touchy, Samantha," he teased, but soon became serious. "What'd she say?"

"I think it's definitely the bogeyman," Sam told him. "Everything she saw that night fits. We just need to find out a way to track it."

"We could check out the house again," Dean suggested, looking at the remaining agents. "See what's what."

Tony and Ziva nodded, and grabbed their things.

"I'll stay here," Sam told them, "and see if I can help McGee find a connection between the victims – if there's something specific we can locate where it'll probably hit next."

Dean nodded, "Okay. Hey – maybe you can get a bit more time with your girlfriend downstairs? I'm sure you could find a reason to go down to forensics." He winked again, not seeing McGee's face turn an odd colour as he grabbed his leather jacket.

"Dean!" he heard Sam cry just as the elevator doors closed. He smirked as he just had a mental image of his kid brother stamping his foot.

**Meh, I didn't like this chapter as much, nothing really happened :( Ah well; and everything I've said about the bogeyman is extremely false. Unless it's not – but no research was involved XD And okay, I know not all small girls like drawing unicorns and castle and princesses etc - but I have to admit it and say I did XD Review?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, peeps :) So, I know - another fic that's late; what can I do? Exams were looming, and despite my parent's thoughts, I DO want to get into Uni XD Oh, and just so's you're aware I refer to the fear of clowns as a 'childish fear'. I don't mean it, 'cause I am _petrified _of them XD**

Send In The Clowns

As the elevator doors closed, Sam turned to look at McGee. The agent stared back, and Sam quickly became uncomfortable.

"So, uh - shall we start?" He asked, going to get his laptop.

"Take Tony's desk," McGee said - clearly assuming that Sam wanted to go down to Forensics. "What are we looking for?" He asked.

"Any kind of links of the deaths," Sam clarified, pushing magazines and flicking crumbs out of the way. "And we need to see if it left anything it can be tracked by."

"Then what?" McGee asked interestedly.

"We find it and kill it." Sam replied; a finality to his words.

"You said before that you can kill it with bullets made out of bone," McGee started, hesitantly. "How do you - I mean; where do you..."

"Relax, it won't be human," Sam laughed. "Probably an animal - sheep maybe? Goat?"

"Oh," McGee said weakly. "Is that all?"

* * *

Dean, Tony and Ziva arrived at the crime scene; but before they entered, Dean had latex gloves thrust in his face. "Dude; I am _not _wearing these."

"It's a crime scene - " Ziva admonished, but was interrupted by Tony.

"I guess it's no big deal," Tony shrugged, cutting through the crime scene tape to walk inside. "There aren't any fingerprints; and running a boogeyman's fingerprints through AFIS won't help much."

Dean threw the gloves over his shoulder and walked in, glancing round. It all seemed so normal. It was hard to believe that something supernatural had taken place here.

"What are we actually looking for?" Tony asked, aimlessly pulling drawers open in a bored manner.

Dean tried to appear like he knew what he was on about, but in all honesty wasn't sure. "Patterns," he finally came up with. "See if it looks like the other crime scenes."

"What do you think we've been doing?" Tony asked him. "We've been trying to catch this guy and you're just telling us to do things we've already been doing!"

"Hey, no need to get snarky," Dean admonished, before thinking: _'Snarky'? Really?_

"Tony?" The senior agent walked over to where Ziva was stood, examining the fridge. When he got there she pointed to a couple of tickets attached to the front with a magnet. "Did the Watson's not have the same tickets?"

Tony thought back to the other victims' house and found himself nodding. "Yeah. I think so," he looked closer, however, and frowned. "It seems right that they all have tickets to the circus; but a boogeyman wouldn't actually _live _at one, would he?"

Dean shrugged. "I'll call Sam."

* * *

Sam swallowed slightly as Abby's hips twitched again in her miniskirt as she leant over the counter in order to fix one of her machines. He was sure she was doing this on purpose, but couldn't exactly say anything with McGee also in the room and glaring at him.

He jumped when his cell went off and quickly fumbled around in his pocket for a while before finally answering. "Hello?"

"_Dude, tell me you aren't just sat there staring at Abby."_

Sam blushed slightly but asked: "Find anything?"

A huff sounded down the phone, which indicated that Sam hadn't responded how Dean had wanted. _"Yeah, both these victims and the Watson's had tickets to a local circus in their house. Think that would have anything to do with this?"_

Sam bit his lip slightly, thinking. "I think I read somewhere that they would go back to somewhere familiar to what their corporeal body is."

_"Dude." _Came the slightly annoyed tone down the phone.

Smirking, Sam replied: "If it's a shark it would go to the ocean, if it's a spider it would go to a web... and if it's a clown..."

_"It would go to a circus," _Dean finished. _"Well how about that, Sammy - looks like we get to go to the circus and speak to all the clowns. I bet you could even get your picture taken with one, if you..." _

Sam hung up.

* * *

Dean chuckled as he put his phone away. It was just too funny to watch his brother react to such a childish fear. Although it now seemed to be very much like that case they did just after their dad's death. He still felt a sharp pain in his gut every time he though of their father, and he didn't want to bring it up with Sammy just yet. And still, churning around in his stomach, he had his father's final words to him. How was he expected to kill his little brother?

"Dean," He looked up, realising Tony had been calling his name for a good few seconds. "Well?"

"Uh..." Dean took a moment to remember what they were doing. "We'll go to that circus; it won't be a clown that's out and around, we'll need to sneak round the back to find where it is."

"Or we could show a warrant," Tony suggested, pulling out his phone, intending to get one.

"That won't work, it'll know something's up and run," Dean said, thinking. "Boogeymen are smarter than you think; we'd probably be able to have a proper conversation with one."

"So what do we do?" Ziva asked, frustrated they weren't do anything then.

"We scope out that circus, find the evil clown, follow the family it follows and then kill it before it does anything," Dean informed them, not feeling the confidence he tried to give out. Suddenly, a thought hit. "Wait a second..." he murmured, thinking hard. "Do you still have access to that little girl? Samantha?"

"Yeah," Tony answered, wondering where Dean was going with this.

"I need to ask a few more questions."

* * *

"Sam!" The little girl exclaimed happily. "You're back!"

Sam smiled at her and bent so they were on eye-level with each other. "Hey, Samantha. I have a few more questions - is that alright?"

"Uh-huh!" She nodded, swinging her legs happily. She had gotten on much better than the last time they spoke, her aunt had taken her in and was probably spoiling her rotten.

"Did you go to the circus the day before... it happened?"

"Yeah, I loved the circus," she answered, and it didn't escape Sam that she used the past tense.

"And did anything strange happen? The clown that you saw in your house - was he there? Think hard," he advised her, keeping his tone light and calm.

She scrunched her eyes up in thought. "I think... maybe... There was one clown," she told him. "I found an old tent at the back. He asked me if I was alone and I said I was with my Mommy and Daddy. I showed him where they were stood. Then he showed me some magic tricks."

"That's good, Samantha," Sam reassured her. "Anything else?"

"Uh... I don't know, I can't remember..." She began to get upset, and Sam hastily backed away as she started to cry with frustration, letting someone more experienced with children take over.

"What do you think?" Dean asked him in a low voice as Gibbs soothed the small girl.

"If we find the tent and watch it," Sam said slowly. "The circus is only in town another day. We have to find him today."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "That's always our luck," he turned and spoke to the group of agents. "Alright - me and Sam will go and find this son of a bitch. We'll follow when he finds a family and kill him. All you'll have to do is make up some cover story and we'll go."

"Wait, you can't do that!" Tony argued. "It's _our _investigation!"

"No offence, DiNozzo," Dean said. "But you haven't really made much headway on _your _investigation." Both alpha males almost started to circle each other and growl, before Gibbs - who by this time had sent Samantha home with her aunt - appeared and slapped them both on the upside of the head.

"Hey!" He growled. "Winchester - "

"Yeah?" Both Dean and Sam replied together.

"Oldest Winchester," Gibbs ammended. "You may have more experience in this, but we have experience too. We'll go as cover in case anything happens."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again as Sam stamped on his foot.

* * *

"Can't believe... being freakin' babysat... _our _job..." Dean grumbled as they wandered through the circus. NCIS had a van parked outside to monitor whichever family the brothers identified, whilst Tony and Ziva were also circling the circus.

"Lay off, Dean, they just don't want anyone else to get hurt," Sam argued, watching carefully for an old tent around the back of the green the circus was sat on for it's last night.

"Yeah well, they will if they aren't careful," Dean spat, again making sure he had the bullets made of bone in his pocket. He and Sam had bought a hunk of meat before coming and had made sure it was one with plenty of bone. They spent a few hours whittling the bones into a somewhat bullet shape in preparation.

His anger dissipated slightly as he glanced at his brother and saw how uncomfortable he was. There were clowns everywhere, offering balloons, making small jigs for children and just generally entertaining people. He didn't miss how close Sam got when a clown passed by them. It must have been the menacing looks on both Winchesters' faces that kept the clowns from fully approaching them.

"Dude - over there," Dean pointed to a shabby looking tent in the corner of the pitch that was set away from the others.

They both cautiously crept towards it, Sam nodding at Dean, who went in first. The first thing that hit them was the smell. The sharp, metallic waft of blood hit their noses and they could taste it if they opened their mouths.

"I guess this is where he keeps the blood from all the victims," Dean muttered, holding his arm over his mouth.

Sam nodded and called Tony to let him know it was clear. Within a minute they were joined by the senior field agent, as Ziva still patrolled the outside.

"So, what now?" Tony asked, also showing all too clearly what he thought of the smell.

"Hide and wait. He's out there somewhere," Dean said darkly, before perking up as he saw Ziva's boots wander past the flap of the tent. "Sammy - you're in charge, I'll stand guard outside."

Sam scowled as his brother leapt out the tent to stand by Ziva.

Tony chuckled. "She'll kill him."

Sam gave a small smile. In a few moments Dean and Ziva were now nowhere to be seen, and Sam was about to comment on this, before they heard something come back into the tent. Tony glanced over from where he was hidden to look at Sam, a questioning look on his face, wondering who it was. Sam shook his head - he couldn't see properly but he knew how Dean sounded and walked, and he was sure Tony would know if it sounded like Ziva.

He was proven right as they saw the clown come inside. The smell of blood became overpowering, and Tony fought to stay silent. Sam was shaking slightly from the sight, but kept his mind fixed on their objective.

His head shot up as he heard the boogeyman mumble to himself. Actually talking, like a real human.

Sam's eyes widened. He knew he would be able to talk to it, but not that it was this... this human.

He then turned pale as the Boogeyman, still not looking at him, said: "It's bad manners to stay in someone's home and not say hello, Sam."

Tony's eyes widened and he looked across at Sam. Sam swallowed but stood up, walking over to it. "Hello."

The clown smiled at him in a leering way, and Sam fought the urge to scream for his brother. God he hated clowns.

"I must say, I'm surprised to see you here, Sam," the Boogeyman said. "My plan was clearly too good to be true."

"What plan? And how do you know who I am?" Sam asked, feeling slightly more confident when Tony eased out of his hiding place to join him, his hand on his gun.

"Sammy - I've been told to look out for you."

A flash of black and Sam's stomach curled.

"What? But... you're a Boogeyman..." He gasped.

The demon grinned and looked even more psychotic in his clown makeup. "Aren't you impressed that I possessed a Boogeyman?" He beamed and looked in the mirror. "Poor thing. You know Boogeymen possess coherent thought? He's struggling right now. It's touching."

"Why?" Was all Sam could ask.

"My boss," he shrugged, repainting his make-up. "I think you've met him. Interesting eyes. Nearly killed Tony over there," he nodded over to where the NCIS agent had been half-crouching. Tony slowly stood up.

"Your boss caused that explosion in Kansas?" Tony asked, confused.

"You're poking your nose in things that don't concern you," the demon explained. "And it was annoying him. So he quickly possessed some poor woman, upset at the garage owner and... Boom."

Sam stared. So that was why he had the vision. It was about the yellow-eyed demon. He'd tried to blow the agents up. "Why?" He asked again. "Why try and kill them? They've got nothing to do with any of this."

"Oh, Sam - we can't have you rotting in prison, can we? And didn't you earn their trust? It would ruin things somewhat if you got stuck in prison for the next few months."

"Ruin what? What are you talking about?" Sam asked, desperate - forgetting he should be killing this monster.

Unfortunately, the demon just smiled annoyingly and tapped his nose. "Sorry, kiddo - spoilers," he paused, looking at both Tony and Sam. "I'm assuming I can't keep collecting blood anymore?" He asked, rather sadly. "Pity. I enjoyed being a Boogeyman."

"Why possess a Boogeyman?" Sam asked, wondering where his brother was and why he wasn't here yet.

"Decoy," he explained. "While you're looking for _me_, you aren't looking for _him_. Get it?"

Sam growled and reached into his pocket, to try and find something to keep the demon with them until he could find Dean. Before he had a chance to do anything, however, the demon turned, his eyes black once more.

"You know what's amazing?" He asked them both, as they were suddenly thrown over to the side of the tent, pinned to the floor. "The sheer _power _a Boogeyman has. And to use that along with my normal skills?" He moved his hand and Tony was flung some more, hitting his head off a metal tent pole, barely remaining conscious. "It's unbelievable."

"We're going to kill you," Sam grunted, trying to move.

"Yeah?" The demon replied, bending down to whisper in his ear. _"I'd like to see you try."_

**Gasp! Yes, it barely makes sense! :D Um, I can't remember when the boys officially learnt about demons, but I'm assuming they know about it all now. And if anyone sees my tiny Dr Who quote, they'll be loved forever ;) So, please review? I'm going to try and get to the next chapter quite quickly - but no one spoil the finale of season 6 'cause I haven't seen it yet :P**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi :) Thanks once more for the reviews :D And do not fret - I plan on whump aplenty before this fic is done (Although it is kinda nearing it's conclusion) and the amazing hurt/comfort. Emphasis on comfort. But also on hurt ;)**

Send In The Clowns

"So, you're from Israel?" Dean asked, trying to start a conversation with Ziva. He'd been determined to charm her since he'd seen her, but so far hadn't been doing so well. It can't have been _him_, since he'd charmed plenty of girls before.

Ziva, however, ignored him. Dean huffed and wondered why he had bothered. He'd left Sam and Tony in the shady looking tent as he attempted to woo Officer David without success. He was so focussed on Ziva that he walked into a clown.

"Sorry, man," the clown said. "Busy day - you know how it is. Damn kids all want balloons."

"Don't worry about it," Dean replied, instantly striking that clown from the list. It seemed way too human.

As they walked further away from the tent to scout out potential clowns, Dean couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

"So," the demon started nicely, "how are you two doing?" He asked, looking at his hostages, grinning. Tony was dizzy and struggling to focus on the clown. Sam too, could feel blood from a cut on his head trickling down into his eyes.

"When my brother comes - " Sam threatened, his words slurring together as he tried to choke up his sentence.

"Oh, I'm sure big bad brother Dean will save the day," the demon leered at Sam. "But if you haven't noticed - he's not here. Now, that could be because I sent a few plain clothes off into the crowd to distract - or maybe I did something worse..." He winked, and Sam gathered that 'plain clothes' meant possessed civilians.

"He's too smart for that," Sam spat out, groaning as he tried to move away. Knowing they weren't exactly threats right now, the demon had let Sam and Tony move; not that they could move very far.

"Yeah? Well don't worry if he fails - eventually, all little brothers have to end their hero-worship of their big brothers," he grinned, before turning to Tony. "Now, _you _on the other hand; I'm sure _Gibbs _will come and save you - that's what does, right?" He chuckled at the shocked look on Tony's face. "But I'm sure your hero-worship will end soon too."

"Don't you dare... hurt any of... the team..." Tony gasped, his head feeling like it was threatening to explode.

The demon frowned. "But where would be the fun in that?"

* * *

Dean was grinding his teeth together in frustration. Not only was Ziva ignoring his advances and had more than once held what suspiciously felt like a knife to his back, the crowds seemed to be against him. More than three times he had attempted to go back to the tent, and each time, there seemed to be a surge in the crowd. Small kids shouting about a balloon show, adults shouting after kids, lost in the crowd.

He could understand now why Sammy hated fairs - the clowns were annoying as well as slightly creepy. Some of them kept stopping him and Ziva and doing small tricks, to the delight of the children around them, and when Dean had once tried to gently push his way through the children, a balloon popped and the child blamed him, to the outrage of the parent.

"Dammit, if _one _more person walks into me I'm going to..." Dean continued to mutter darkly as he now just pushed through crowds, coming close to punching someone when they wouldn't get out of his way.

Ziva was also frowning, although it was for a different reason. "I cannot reach Gibbs or Tony," she told him, looking down at her radio. "There is only static."

"Well, supernatural things can sometimes mess up radio waves," Dean said absentmindedly, before coming to a stop. "Can you get through to anyone else?"

Ziva raised an eyebrow but changed the frequency, attempting to talk to anyone. She immediately got a confused family who were stood outside the gates at Disneyland, trying to gather themselves together, having each taken a radio in case one of them got lost.

Quickly switching, she also came into contact with the coast guard and at one point was listening to a police scanner. "It seems I can contact everyone but Tony and Gibbs."

Dean was now attempting to sprint towards the tent they had left Sam and Tony in, but the crowds were once again merging and getting in his way. "Dammit!" He yelled, before looking down in shock as he felt Ziva take his hand.

"We will go back to the van and inform Gibbs of the situation. We will then make a different route to the tent, away from crowds," Dean looked at her for a moment before deciding that was probably a better idea than trying to push through hundreds of people.

* * *

"So, Sammy," the demon said, smiling at him. "How's the blood loss working for you?" He had made a cut on Sam's arm; not immediately near an artery or vein, but still near and deep enough so that the blood flowed freely.

Sam gazed up at him before inching slightly more to his right. He had been doing this for a while - the demon didn't watch both of them constantly, and soon Sam was near enough that he could talk to Tony. "Tony - are you okay?" He whispered, barely moving his lips.

"I played football in college - I can go for weeks without all this blood," Tony tried to quip, but it was ruined as he stumbled on words, and by his pale face and shaking hands.

"We need to make a devil's trap," Sam said in a hushed voice. "It'll trap the demon - he won't be able to leave the body, and he won't be able to leave the circle of the trap."

"Surely we _want _him to leave the body?" Tony argued quietly, trying to stem the flow of blood.

"It's showing restraint - if he leaves then the boogeyman will smell the blood and kill us," Sam explained. "I'll try and use something to make it - try and distract him."

"Distraction's my middle name," Tony said, semi-proudly and he pulled himself into sitting and looked over at the clown. "Hey, tough guy," the demon looked up. Apparently it had been trying to contact something or someone using a bowl. Tony doubted very much that it was wine in there. "Did you know, that Hitchcock appeared in 27 of his movies? He actually had 29 cameos, 'cause he appeared twice in 'The Lodger' in 1926 and twice in 'Under Capricorn' in 1949. I think that's who Stephen King gets it from, he's always making cameos in his movies - ooh, and did you know that before he was in movies; Sean Connery posed nude for art classes? And he polished coffins! I guess all great actors start off at the bottom - Charlie Chaplin was a janitor; did you know that? And - "

He was cut off from his ramblings by an immense blow to the head. "You know I played quarterback in college," Tony slurred, leaning down and away from the annoyed demon stood above him. "I don't go down easy..."

In this time Sam had managed to crawl away and make half a circle around the demon with his blood slowly trickling onto the muddy floor. He was continually adding the necessary parts of the devil's trap on the inside and hoped for Tony to keep going long enough from him to comple it.

"... And it lasted for 48 hours, which was the point, seein' as it was called 'The longest, most meaningless movie in the world', it was an indie one, so I don't think they were expectin' anythin' else, but still, I reckon it should be recognised as..."

Sam tuned out of what Tony was saying once more, and couldn't help but grin at his powers of distraction. The demon seemed to actually be listening to him. Sam hadn't heard a punch in over 2 minutes.

"... so it's full of mistakes - when Jack finds the ring of trees with all the holidays painted on them, he should've come through The Halloween Tree. Instead, he just came through a forest! Sally must've been pissed at his lack of direction..."

Was he talking about Disney movies now? Sam shook his head and nearly got all the way around the demon. It had to be a very small devil's trap, as he didn't want to lose all that blood, but he had obviously lost a fair bit, as he now nearly collapsed.

"... But they had to stop filming for an emergency evacuation 'cause of Hurrican Wilma - which they should really have shot, in my opinion - I mean, they were prob'ly gonna do some sort of storm scene; what pirate movie doesn't have one, am I right? Ooh - there's something; Peter Pan; that has pirates, right? Cause you know, only Wendy from that, and the dogs in 101 Dalmations - they're the only ones who have both parents alive and actually present in a Disney film. I mean, that's quite sad - they're kids films! Tell you what isn't though - 300! Now _there's _a good movie. You know there are 1,500 cuts in it? I know! And 90% was film in blue screen, and the other 10% was in - where are you going?"

Sam stopped as he heard Tony sound disheartened that his audience had moved. He then felt a kick in his side that knocked him to his back and looked to see the demon stood over him.

"I have _had _it with you two!" He yelled, and Sam heard a pained '_owww'_ that came from the direction of Tony. "First I get bored to death by him, and then you go and try to trap me? You know, I know the boss said to try and keep you alive - but I don't have to listen to him! You actually tried to draw a devil's trap?" He brought out a sickening grin. "You know what? It might be fun if I happened to be _exorcised_... This poor Boogeyman must be hungry! And you both smell _wonderful_. See you around, Sam," he gave one more grin and the clown let out a whirl of black smoke, as the clown fell to the floor.

"Dude, it's like - "

"I don't really want to hear about more movies right now," Sam said, trying not to pass out. They only had moments before the Boogeyman awoke.

_Dean, where are you?_

* * *

"What do you mean you can't contact them?" Gibbs got out of the van and started to pull on his bulletproof vest, making McGee immediately follow and do the same.

"Dude, it's not our fault - the radio's screwed up, and the crowd is ridiculous!" Dean ranted, pulling his own pistol out of his pocket as he saw the agents draw theirs. He quickly filled it with the bone bullets, knowing that he'd need them.

"It is true, Gibbs - I can't reach them, and we cannot get through the crowd," Ziva supplied.

"We'll go round the back," Gibbs told them, signalling to some backup agents in the van to get behind them.

Dean followed Gibbs, keeping low as they scoured the outside fencing of the circus. "There, right there!" Dean pointed out the tent. "That's where we left them!" He ran ahead of Gibbs now, taking the bolt cutters out of McGee's hands and cutting the fencing so they could sneak around the back.

They climbed through the new hole in the fence and were soon stationed outside of the tent.

* * *

"Is that still a demon?" Tony asked lightly, his head aching and the blood still trickling down his arm.

"No, that's a Boogeyman now," Sam replied, gritting his teeth. "Look," he started, seeing it wake up. "I know this is gonna sound selfish, but - "

"Get behind me," Tony suddenly hissed, and although his face was pale and half of the sentence was slurred, Sam quickly moved. "You've lost way more blood than me - I'll try'n fend it off..." Sam was going to ask him to do that anyway, but now saw how desperate the situation was. Both of them were running dangerously low on blood, and they couldn't take on a Boogeyman without bone bullets.

The clown stood up. "Demon gone," he said, smiling. He sniffed the air and licked his lips. "You still here - blood?" His head snapped towards Tony, who looked down at his arm.

"Yeah, that's blood," he sighed. He didn't even have time to move, as the Boogeyman came upon him so fast, neither man saw it approach. Tony cried out in pain as it started to suck the blood from his arm. "If you've got a plan, Sam - now would be good!" He yelled, his eyes tightly closed as he grew paler.

Before Sam could think, shots rang out, and he instinctively threw himself to the floor to stop from being shot. The clown cried out in pain and fell as well, coming to a stop by Sam, as it slowly started to melt. _Guess Dean got it with the bone bullets_, he thought dazedly.

"Sam - Sammy? Sammy, you okay?" He opened his eyes to find Dean knelt in front of him, worry apparent on his face.

"Hey, Dean..." Sam said softly. "You got it..."

"Yeah, I know, little brother," Dean replied, ripping his jacket to use to tie around Sam's wounds. "Shit, Sam - how much blood have you lost?"

"Made a 'vl's' tr'p..." Sam answered, his eyes closing again.

"A what?" Sam nodded in the direction of his bloody devil's trap on the floor. "It was a demon?" Dean asked, shocked.

"It left... 'M tired, D'n..."

"Wait for the ambulance, Sammy," Dean tried to sound soothing, but his hands were shaking as he tried to keep pressure on his brother's arms.

Near them, Gibbs wasn't having much more luck stopping Tony losing anymore blood. "DiNozzo, I swear if you die; or even pass out on me, I will _kill you_," he growled, not bothering to think of the contradictions of that statement.

"DiNozzo's... do not... pass out," he said in what he hoped was a 'and that's that' voice. "Boss I really don't feel too good," he gasped, trying to cradle his head but was unable to, given that Gibbs was holding his arms down.

"Boss, the ambulance has come outside," McGee informed him, not being able to look at how much blood Sam and Tony had lost between them.

Paramedics quickly rushed in and tended to the injured men. Gibbs stood to give them room, but looked around as he heard Dean arguing: "Dammit, I'm not leaving him! He's my _brother_!"

"Sir, just give us room to work, your brother has lost a dangerous amount of blood," the medic tried to reason, but Dean kept a firm grip on Sam.

"Winchester; if you don't move, your brother might die," Gibbs told him fiercely. Dean didn't react, so Gibbs just grabbed him and hauled him away.

"Back off!" Dean yelled, trying to go back to his brother.

"You don't think I'm scared to death that Tony might not make it?" Gibbs hissed so that none of his team heard him. "Just because he's not blood doesn't mean he's not family. Let. Them. Work."

Dean looked at him for a while but finally nodded, standing back but keeping a sharp eye on Sam. Gibbs gave him a pat on the back and went back to Tony.

"Boss - did you know that... all the clocks in Pulp Fiction are all... they're all stuck?"

"That right, DiNozzo?" Gibbs said in a soft voice as he followed the medics while they took Tony to the amublance strapped to a stretcher.

"Yeah - all at 4:20... isn't that... isn't that weird?"

"Sure, Tony," Gibbs replied, getting into the ambulance. He'd told Ziva and McGee to finish up there and meet them at the hospital. There wasn't much they could do, really. The clown was dead and the other agents were told he was behind the other killings - which he had been. Dean had told them how to dispose of the body, but they were going to send it to Ducky first so as not to raise suspicion.

Dean immediately hopped into Sam's ambulance and sat next to his brother's head. "You'll be fine, little brother," Dean told him, as they doors closed and they took off.

"I know..." Sam replied softly. "You're here..."

"Damn straight, Sammy," Dean said, smiling sadly. "Damn straight."

**Yay for meaningless, trivial facts about films saving the day! :D I do love them XD So, please review and I will hopefully see you all next chapter :D **


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks to those of you who are kind enough to review :) This is where we reach the conclusion of our story; so thanks to those of you have stuck with me to the end :) Little thing: in this chapter I mention insurance and stuff in hospitals :S We have the NHS over here so I have no idea about paying for medical care - it's all guesses based off tv programmes :P**

Send In The Clowns

Blood... there was a lot of blood. He remembered that much. Although quite a lot of it was his own. Maybe. Or was it Sam's? Both, he hazily remembered, keeping his eyes closed in the ambulance, his stomach churning every time he felt the blood slick down his arms. He tried to move them, to stop the flow of blood, or to get away from the monster.

It was still there, right?

"Tony."

That sounded like Gibbs. That was good. Gibbs wouldn't let him die. And that must mean the monster was gone. He felt very childish, being scared of a monster - but at least it was real! It's not like it was in his head.

"Tony, stop moving and let the medics do their work."

He sounded strict. Not that he wasn't usually. But he sounded calm too. Or pretending to be. He wasn't sure now.

"_Tony_."

Now he sounded serious. And was that a hand on his wrist?

"Tony - _Stop. Moving_."

He should probably listen. He stilled his arms and tried to stop the panic inside him. He was getting quite jittery. And why was it so cold in here? Amublances should be the appropriate temperature for people who were dying - no, _not _dying. Injured. For people who were _injured_.

"He's going into shock - we need to get there soon, he needs a lot of blood."

Ah, a medic. She sounded smart. And she was right. He _did _need a lot of blood. His head was very swimmy. Was that a word? Swimmy?

"DiNozzo, stay calm and listen to me."

Ooh, Gibbs was talking again.

"Tony, you're going to be fine - we're almost there. Just hang tight 'til we get there, okay?"

He could do that.

* * *

Sam groaned at the pain in his arms. The world was wimming in and out of focus as the ambulance did all sorts of impressive weaves and skids through traffic that Dean would have been impressed with. That was a thought - where was his brother?

"Dean..." He mumbled. Where was he? Dean was always there. Always.

"Right here, Dude," Sam relaxed slightly. He must have lost consciousness at some point because he didn't remember being loaded onto the amublance, and he didn't remember Dean coming with him. He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. "Right here."

"We get it?" He asked weakly, trying to focus on the hand, hoping it would anchor him.

"Yeah," he heard Dean reply softly. "We got it, little brother."

"Tried to trap it," Sam felt it important to tell him - he didn't want Dean thinking he hadn't done anything to help.

"I know you did, Sammy," Dean said in a quiet, muffled voice. "But you lost a lot of blood, so we're just gonna pull in at this hospital, and they're gonna give you more, so you get back to your old, geek-boy self."

Sam tried to smile weakly at this little dig, but only succeeded in an odd grimace. "Bad?" He heard Dean question, seeing this as a pain-filled wince.

"Not good," he ground out in reply. How was he still conscious? He had lost way too much blood to be conscious. That was a fact. And he did like facts.

Keeping this in mind, he let himself pass out.

* * *

"What's taking them so long?" Dean growled, pacing the waiting room in anger. When Sam had passed out in the ambulance, the driver sped up, and they arrived only moments before Tony's pulled in. Now, both Dean and Gibbs were in a small room off to the side of the main waiting area. Gibbs had flashed his badge and they were given private rooms - as were Sam and Tony. Dean would have to start carrying his fake FBI credentials to the hospitals they frequently visited.

However, he had been forced to sign Sam in as 'Sam Winchester' since Gibbs was right behind him. And they didn't have any insurance. Since it was more or less a life saving thing they were doing at the moment, the doctors didn't really take much notice. But Dean didn't exactly have the funds to cover this.

"They'll be getting the blood from the banks for them both," Gibbs gave in an equal growl. "Tony's AB positive, we've always had a bit of a struggle getting him blood."

"Sammy's O negative - they should have that, right?" Dean stopped pacing to look at Gibbs, scared that his brother wouldn't be given blood.

"O is the most common," both men turned to find Ducky stood at the door, smiling gently at them both. "But the people within that group can only receive O, whilst everyone else can receive their own and O."

"Hey, Duck," Gibbs greeted with a small nod, before taking up Dean's space and paced for a while.

"Hi, Ducky," Dean said. "So, do you think they'll have it?"

"I assume so," he replied, going to take a seat.

They waited for half an hour in silence. Gibbs and Dean took it in turns to pace, whilst Ducky sat on the chair, sometimes flicking through a magazine. Usually it would just be him waiting in a hospital for one of the agents (but, more often than not, for Tony) as Gibbs would still be doing something within the case - where they still had to find suspects or whether he just had paperwork to do. Now though, Ducky bet that Gibbs would have no clue as to how to tell the director what had taken place. Dean was going to burn the body, he had said. How do they authorise that?

Suddenly, a doctor came into the room. "Agent DiNozzo?" He asked.

Gibbs stopped pacing and whirled around. "Yeah? How is he?"

"He should be fine - we've given him blood and stitched up the wounds. We can probably discharge him within a few days," Gibbs processed this and wanted to collapse onto a chair in relief. However, since Dean and Ducky were there, he simply nodded.

"What about Sam?" Dean asked urgently.

"We're running low on the blood he needs," the doctor said, with a slight frown. "We can keep him going on the supplies we have, but..." He left his sentence hanging ominously.

"No, no - no you said," Dean looked at Ducky imploringly, "that it was a common blood type; how did Tony get his?"

"Mr Winchester, time is of the essence, you can't afford to panic," the doctor told him simply. "Do you have the same blood type?"

Dean hurriedly racked his brains. How was it that he knew Sam's and yet not his own? Surely he would know if it was the same? "I... I don't know - can you test? Is there a quick way?"

"It should be in your file," the doctor said, quickly paging a nurse to bring it. "If not, we can take a small sample and send it to the lab."

Dean hoped that at some point his dad had taken him to the hospital for _something _when he was younger which meant he had his blood group on file. "Can I see Sam?" He asked, just as a nurse came rushing in.

"There's a file on a Dean Winchester, born in Lawrence, Kansas," she said, apparently wondering if it was the right Dean Winchester. "Blood type is O negative."

Dean closed his eyes in relief, but opened them again quickly when he felt the doctor pull him by the arm. "We need you to give us blood - will you do that?"

"Of course," Dean looked at the doctor like he was stupid. Why wouldn't he give blood to save his brother's life?

"In that case you should come with me - we'll get you set up," the doctor cocked a hand to make Dean follow him.

* * *

"You never make... that much fuss... over other things," Sam said, groggy from anaesthetic, watching his older brother wince as the nurse took some more blood.

Dean glared at him. "You're welcome," he said sarcastically, motioning towards the IV that was connected to Sam, and was pumping his older brother's blood into him. He suddenly felt much better, and looking down, Sam thought that the doctors had done a good job on the gashes on his wrists.

"Thanks," he replied, flashing a small smile at Dean, before wincing. He was sporting a large bruise on his face that he had no doubt received from the demon/boogeyman which was giving him hell every time he moved his face, even with the painkillers.

"So, are you ready to tell me _why _you tried to squeeze yourself out like a sponge to make a devil's trap?" Dean asked when the nurse had left, trying to instill some humour into the situation.

"'Cause I didn't have any paint with me," Sam quipped tiredly. He sighed as he saw Dean's 'I _will _make you tell me' face. "It was a demon - he possessed a boogeyman to draw us away from the yellow eyed demon."

"What?" Dean frowned. "We were getting close?"

"The vision I had," Sam told him, "it was him - he tried to blow Tony and Ziva up, the demon said it was because it would 'mess things up' if we got arrested."

"Mess _what _things up?" Dean growled.

"I don't know, Dean! It's not as if he just sat there telling me the whole plan!" Sam snapped irritably. "All I got to listen to was the 100 greatest pieces of movie trivia!" Sam's face softened slightly. "Although it did distract him. How's Tony?" He suddenly asked.

"I don't know, I've been hooked up to this vampire machine since I got told _somebody _needed my blood," Dean replied. "I'll go find out as soon as the - ah, speak of the angel," he grinned winningly at the nurse who came in to take the medical instruments out of his arm. She blushed and told him he could move around - but slowly.

"And if you feel light-headed, sit down and press the call button," she told him, before bustling out to see other patients.

"Alright, dude - I'll go see how Tony is," Dean went to get up, but Sam grabbed hold of his jacket sleeve.

"She said to move around slowly," he argued, keeping his weak hand clutched tightly to Dean.

"I'm not gonna run a marathon! It's just a walk down the corridor!" He looked down. "Dude. Think I can have my arm back at some point?"

"Maybe you should wait," Sam said, biting his lip. "In case you do feel dizzy," he flushed faintly and Dean realised he wasn't really concerned with his older brother's welfare - he knew that Dean had lost more blood than that and not fallen over. He just didn't want his big brother to leave him in a hospital room alone while he was still slightly dizzy and light-headed himself.

"You know what, I think I do feel a bit dizzy," Dean told him, sitting back down next to the bed. "I'll sit here a while."

Sam visibly relaxed and let his hand drop from Dean's arm. His head too, dropped back onto the pillow and he gave a tired sounding sigh.

"Get some rest, Sammy," Dean said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

"But, Boss - I'm _fine_!" Tony all but whined from his bed a day later. "I'm going to see how Sam is," he attempted to get out of bed, but was again pushed back into it.

"He's fine too, DiNozzo," Gibbs informed him. "Last time I went to see how he was, he was asleep."

"You went to visit him?" Tony asked, startled. "How come I didn't get any visitors? Dean didn't come see if I was okay did he?" He asked. He felt like he'd made a friend in the oldest Winchester - well, in both - and felt quite upset that they hadn't checked up on him.

"No, but that could be because he was refusing to leave his brother, and refusing to let his brother get out of bed," Gibbs snorted, an odd smirk on his face. "He could stand to be less protective."

Tony gave an odd sounding cough. "Dear Kettle - you're looking quite black today. Yours sincerely, Pot," he grinned as Gibbs turned around to glare at him. "I mean, I know, they're so clingy - good thing you don't like anyone that much, Boss," Tony tried to hastily backtrack.

Gibbs' glare got, if possible, more menacing. "Keep digging, DiNozzo, you could be buried standing up at this rate."

"Sorry, Boss."

"Hey, guys," they looked to see both Winchesters stood at the door. "We're taking off, and thought we'd come say bye," Sam explained, holding his wrists carefully in front of him as Gibbs had seen Tony do when the dressings were changed. He also had an odd, spaced look in his eyes that showed he was on the good stuff (Unlike Tony, who had bizarre reactions to pain killers) which Dean seemed to be chuckling at.

"That's not fair!" Tony whined. "Why are you getting discharged and I'm not?"

"We have to hit the road," Dean told them. "Heard of a nest of succubi in Texas we need to attend to. Although we're probably going to stop off at a certain salvage yard before," he said this to Sam, "just so Bobby can see for himself that I didn't kill you."

"That and the fact we can't pay for medical treatment," Sam mumbled, the pain meds loosening his tongue.

"So we're flying the coop," Dean butted in hastily. "Get well soon, Tony."

"I'm well _now_," he insisted. "It's just that Gibbs isn't letting me leave."

Gibbs seemed to have ignored his statement and went to shake both Winchesters' hands. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem - hey look at that, Sammy - we were actually thanked for doing a job!" He seemed elated at this.

"Not the kind of thanking you usually want, Dean," Sam said, a large smile on his face.

"Someone's having a nap in the back of the car before going to Bobby's," Dean said forcefully, practically pulling Sam out of the room. "See you, guys - any more supernatural problems, just call us; I gave Tony my number."

"Abby's got mine," Sam added, blushing as everyone looked at him.

"You might want to hurry before Gibbs gets out his glare," Tony advised them. "Bye, Sam, Dean."

"Oh, about the body - just pour rock salt on it, a bottle of gas and light it up; it's the only way to be sure it's dead," Dean told them as some bizarre, last minute advise. "See you around," with one more nod, Dean left, pulling Sam with him.

After half a minute of silence and staring at the empty doorway, Tony perked up and said: "So, Boss - what are you going to tell the Director?"

Gibbs opened his mouth before closing it again.

Damn.

**Eeeh, it's finished :D I love me some Winchester boys :D and NCIS boys, clearly ;) Thanks for sticking with me to the end guys - and even if you've never reviewed before, if you give me one now, just so I know what people thought of the story, I would be so happy :D **


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